Fallen Embers
by padawanjinx
Summary: While on a mission, QuiGon is several injured. ObiWan is believed to be dead. A mysterious force block prevents Qui from remembering the truth. If ObiWan still lives, its up to QuiGon to find his way through the block and save his apprentice before all is
1. Chapter 1

Title: **Fallen Embers**

Chapter One: The Dying of the Light

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own them, but I have played with them for a long time. Sadly though this is the last adventure I shall recollect with my two favorite Jedi.

Warnings: This is going to have a bunch of Qui and Obi torture, more so for Qui.

Rating: G but it will be full of angst.

Summary: While on a mission, Qui-Gon is severely injured, struggling to survive. Obi-Wan is believed to be dead, but Qui-Gon believes that his padawan still lives though all evidence points to a grisly death. With Qui-Gon's health diminishing due to a mysterious force block, the council takes drastic actions, which may wipe out all memory of Obi-Wan. If Obi-Wan still lives, its up to Qui-Gon to find his way around the block and go rescue his apprentice, before all is lost on a dying world.

/force thoughts

_Italics Flashbacks & Dreams Qui's POV_

AN: This is my last Star Wars fic. I am currently writing some Lord of the Rings fics, so I will continue to write and I want to take a moment to thank every one that has reviewed my fics and given me such wonderful feedback and encouragement. Without your words, I would have lost all inspiration and desire to write and I never would have met the people that have become my extended family. To them, and to you all, I give my respect, my admiration, and my deepest, profound heartfelt gratitude. Reviewers are balm to the soul, and from all writers, you are most appreciated. Thank you!

AN2: This was writtenseveral years ago, before 'Attack of the Clones' came out, so it was done before I knew that Dooku was Qui-Gon's master. I think that its more poignant to have Yoda as his master. Call it writer's prerogative. ;)

A small shuttle streaked into view, its sub-light engines shutting down, and the craft steering easily into the upper atmosphere into the dusty, copper colored world of Aphidia. Fourteen Jedi Knights and Padawans, three healers, and one very stern, stoical council member filled the small cargo hold of the transport vessel, all intent on making a very hasty rescue of two of their own that had been victimized by the inhabitants.

The dark eyes of the council member swept the scene approaching in the viewport, picking out details, making observations, and silently plotting the course of action that will be needed when the contingent lands.

The brilliant iridescent sun was beating down on the world, mottling colors from deep rose, to pastel blue, and then shifting again to a vibrant orange and rich violet. The colors accented the deep scars that etched their way along the planets surface. Abysmal craters dappled along the landscape, smoke plumed high into the sky sporadically along the horizon, fire illuminated the shadowed areas the sun cast, showing the planet well into their deadly civil conflict.

The planets surface, which normally was even and defined, covered in mounds upon mounds of dwellings, clustered together and joined in a dizzying network of intersecting roadways and catwalks, was now uneven, charred and ruined. Large, multilevel buildings scattered throughout the region, most of them now in ruins from the war raging all around. Housing units were collapsed into heaps and flames jumped high into the air, as if reaching for some sort of celestial guidance to pull them away from the carnage.

A thick fog of acidic, tempestuous smoke covered the planet's crevices and valleys like a soft comforting blanket, but the soothing it promised was an illusion, hiding desolation, hatred, and the ongoing battle that raged over the terrain.

Skimming lower through a thick, dense cloud formation, the shuttle broke through the veil of stormy gray, ashen smoke, and began searching for a suitable place to set down.

As the shuttle neared the surface, the roars of the engines were lost in the thundering of bombs, echo of blaster fire, and the unstable rumbles of the surrounding terrain. Loud bangs pierced the afternoon air; thermal updrafts from the scattered ruins below shook the craft as it made another drop in its decent. Inside, the Jedi concentrated on the force to help them stifle their emotions to better focus on the task at hand.

At the orbital height the craft assumed over the planet, beings looked like pinpricks clustered together and could be seen shuffling about in small groups. Several beings, more than likely snipers, spanned wide to give better coverage to their associates in case of an enemy attack. Brilliant flashes of lights, followed a few seconds later by deep rumblings, echoed around the civilization below.

Two larger groups of the planets inhabitants converged on a courtyard, weapons fired, and several succumbed to the heat of war, collapsing into smoldering heaps. The yells of battle were lost in the throes of war on the planet and went undetected by the Jedi from the whine of the crafts' engines as it sped high overhead.

Inside the craft, a tall, dark-skinned Jedi Councilman with penetrating black eyes, heaved a heavy sigh, his eyes surveying the landscape now coming into clearer focus as the craft descended, vectoring in on the prearranged landing coordinates.

"Don't worry, Mace. We'll find them," a female Knight reassured the leader.

Jedi Master Mace Windu nodded briefly, his mind wondering over possibilities, scenarios, and questions that he so desperately sought answers to.

What would happen if they were gone? Why did the force allow this to happen? What could have gone wrong? Were they even alive?

A painful hitch in his chest made him flinch slightly as his heart constricted with fear. He crossed his arms tighter across his chest, biting his lip and scowling out of the viewport, as he dared to ask himself, and regrettably; answer, the question that would be more difficult than any mission he ever been assigned.

How will he tell Master Yoda his padawan had been lost?

With a dull ache, he imagined the senior council member's face. Feel his disappointment, his fear, his anguish, and his grief. His stomach dropped at the thought.

Another master, much taller and dressed in robes of pale beige, came to stand beside his friend, trying to ease his melancholy, "They will be alright, Mace. We'll find them. We have their last known coordinates from Jinn's last transmission, and everyone here will search until they drop to bring them home."

"I know," Windu sighed, keeping his eyes trained onto the quickly approaching ground. "But what condition will they go home in?"

The other master shook his head in sadness, his voice strangely hitched, "We can only leave their condition to the force, and hope for the best."

A somber nod and vigil at the viewport answered.

A crackling over the ships communication system started the group that watched their leader contemplate in silence, "Master Windu, the landing field has been destroyed."

With another heavy sigh, the Jedi master pressed the relay button to answer, "Just find the best place to set us down."

"The terrain is pretty rough. I don't know if I can find a place big enough for a landing. It may get a little bumpy," the pilot called back. "With all the fighting and bombs, I don't know if there is a safe enough place _to_ sit down."

"I'll trust your judgement. Just get us down there as soon as you can."

"Affirmative, Sir."

With a tremor and a shudder, two Jedi padawans buckled to the cabin floor, then hastily scrambled to their feet. The Jedi found seats to strap themselves in, praying to the force they would survive the landing and that their pilot was reliable.

The youngest of the group, a newly chosen padawan in her early teens, projected her anxiety and fears into the force, where the other members of the search party detected it. Her master placed a scaled hand on her arm and smiled, "Everything will be fine. It's just a little bumpy."

"Yes master," the girl replied quietly, then tensed again as a rocket whizzed by the small vessel, its lettering visible through the small porthole. Shockwaves rocked the vessel from the blasts of missiles that sailed by the small portholes, their vortices causing the shuttle to buck in midair.

The restraining harnesses cut into the Jedi's skin as they were thrown from side to side by the turbulence and jerky flying done by the pilot. A particularly heavy jolt made everyone rise a few inches off their seats, then come slamming back down onto their chairs, then whiplash sideways as the vessel lurched.

Padawans tensed by their masters' side, some clenched their hands together to hide their trembling. The younger Jedi focused on their elders to help find their center. Several of the masters looked over to their leader, worry clearly evident on their faces.

"Don't worry, he's an excellent pilot. He'll get us through!" Master Windu called out to everyone, then mentally chided to himself. /He better hope he's as good as he claims, or I will personally hunt him down/

Everyone united their force signatures and sent peaceful thoughts and serenity into each other, hoping to ease the minds of the younger contingent. The force ebbed like a collective sigh, shifted, and crested as the Jedi in the cabin released their tensions and fears into the force, as they were taught since their initiate days.

"Found the perfect place!" the pilot shouted happily as the craft swerved to avoid another rocket, then lunged forward in a steep decent.

Heat began to fill the cabin as the temperature outside began to rise with the painful distress of a rapid reentry into the lower atmosphere and rural fires licked at the underbelly of the craft, turning it a vivid puce. Smoke and cinders flew past the viewports as the craft descended to the planets surface. The Jedi braced themselves as the craft swerved to avoid a collision with a stray projectile, then heaved a sigh of relief as the vessel shuttered into hover over their landing sight, and alarms rang out announcing the docking procedure.

With a violent jolt, the craft settled down on the safest port the pilot could ascertain which happened to be a park, long since devastated by the turmoil and military assault now surrounding the barren wasteland. Around the perimeter, twisted stumps of what were once giant trees, sprouted out of the ground; resembling blackened skeletons standing guard over the vessel now nestled amongst the wreckage. The normal soft green vegetation was no longer recognizable under the charred ruins of the obliterated flora. Small fires lingered here and there, casting ominous shadows over the desolate and scorched earth.

The reverberating roar of militia pounding down the streets and firing their weapons drowned out the sound of the engines hiss as it cycled down and prepared for its occupants to disembark. The ground rocked as another blast wave swept over the land, causing all objects to shudder in terror at the eminent destruction.

As soon as the craft settled, and the last sound of disengaging engines died away, Master Windu un-strapped himself and hurried to the entrance. Standing at the hatchway in anticipation, a frown etched his handsome features, hiding the sense of dread he sheltered away inside to be meditated on later. His mind focused on procedures, hoping that the others would remember the protocols, and the force would favor them with a quick, easy rescue.

The force will be difficult to access with all the tumult and strife, building and filling the Jedi's senses and overwhelming them, screaming out to be abated. Thousands, if not millions of lives were in chaos with the war. Emotions crested the force in waves powerful enough to physically throw an unsuspecting Jedi to their knees.

The hatch hissed open and the ramp extended down to allow the Jedi to disembark into a light gray mist, formed mainly of soot. Immediately pain, fatigue, fear, and anxiety flooded over the Jedi's senses from the locals and military leaders that hasten over the region. The sensations tingled along their spines, then raced to their minds, tearing and burning with agony.

Several of the Jedi winced with the onslaught of such raw devastation, the force allowing them to vicariously experience each individual's plights. With a deep force impression and a slight meditative trance of calm and serenity, the Jedi allowed the sensations to flow over them and dissipate away, cleansing their minds and emotions with the fresh light of the force.

The surrounding fog began to billow, rippled by a strong breeze, and began to filter away from the Jedi and reveal the surrounding terrain to a better degree.

Several of the Jedi gasped at the scene, now closer and visible through the war-induced fog that hovered over the area. Bodies littered the streets, heaped, and smoldering, some dismembered beyond any kind of recognition. Pools of white tinted blood could be seen seeping out from corpses and trickling down throughout the streets and soaking into the hardened, charred earth.

The underlying Jedi instincts screamed out to assist those fallen from the battle. Now was the time for actions, to help those who needed their assistance. Officially, there had been no formal requests, no summons before the Republic by any governing body, asking for assistance, and the Jedi were not welcome.

But how can they just turn their backs on all the suffering?

The Jedi were sworn to obey planetary laws and not interfere with political disputes. Bound by the duty, the oath, the bond to their brethren prevented them from completely obeying the rule of the Code, and had gathered as many rescue members as they could to go to the war torn world.

"This is a mission to rescue fallen Jedi, not immerse ourselves into the planets dispute," Master Mace Windu had informed the Galactic Republic when they demanded an explanation for his mutinous act of assembling other Jedi in order to search for the reportedly missing master and his padawan that escorted the diplomatic ambassador back to his home world.

The Jedi contingent pulled their attention from the devastation all around and surrounded their leader, awaiting their orders. Several waves pulsed as apprehension dissipated into the force from the masters and apprentices.

"Keep focused on finding Jinn and Kenobi. Don't let your personal feelings get in the way or else they will be lost. Don't take any risks. If you encounter any hostiles, retreat immediately to the shuttle! We can regroup and come back when they lost their patience," Master Windu called to his colleagues, who nodded then began to disband in an attempt to search of the desolate grounds. "Morra. Zeller. You're with me!"

A tall Korddian master and his Arlieez padawan nodded and followed the council member towards a small abatis, hoping to find their downed colleague before the sounding battle surrounding them got too close.

The council member took the lead and personified the outward calm of a skilled, trained warrior. Fluid movements allowed the figure to glide effortlessly across the rocky, scarred terrain. His face showed only determination and unwavering stubbornness. A silent resolve resounded in his head, promising himself he would never again rebuke his friend for his blatant disregard for rules, and the nasty habit of teaching his padawan that it was alright to defy the council if you so wished. He only hoped his friend would be alive so he would be able to implement the new resolution.

The Korddian master racing along at the councilmen's side, was over seven feet tall, with a muscular build, covered in a soft, pale golden fur, which didn't hide the chiseled face that resembled a historical god of lore. His exceptionally sharp hawk-like eyes of deep amber allowed the master to see great distances, and added to the sense that, though his nature was very gentle and compassionate, he was not someone to mess with.

The Korddians' counterpart, Padawan Zeller, was small for his age, even compared to other Arlieez. He was a humanoid, twenty standard years old, but barely over a meter tall, with rough honey colored skin, small dulled horns along the underside of his lower jaw, and gentle pale blue eyes. What the padawan lacked in physical structure, he well made up for it in force acuity. His precision was unmatched, and his strength in the force was quite literally, a force to be reckoned with.

Smoke, mixed with a heavy fog covered the ground as more buildings disintegrated from blast waves, sending debris flying and soot billowing out into the already thick air. The surrounding terrain seemed to sense the newcomers, and double its efforts against them. The ground shook, debris rained down, and the heat coming from the structural fires made the fog seem to breathe with life.

The three Jedi coughed and wheezed, pulling their robes up over their faces to better aid their breathing. Hurrying down a small lane, the trio centered on the coordinates that Master Jinn had relayed to the Jedi Temple in his last transmission.

The lane opened out into a small courtyard, surrounded by small buildings of one or two stories in height. Focusing on the force, the trio broke out into a dead run towards the end of the street, where a large chunk of durasteel arched high into the sky like a giant scale off a mythological beast, the only remains of its once tall and luxurious apartments. The last known coordinates of Qui-Gon Jinn.

The master/padawan team accompanying the council member were considered the opposites of Jinn and Kenobi, though truth be told, they were more alike than not. The Korddian/Arlieez pair pretended to be strict and follow the Code to the letter. Whereas, Jinn and Kenobi were often brought before the council to face reprimand for their constant, blatant disregard for the rules. This happened at least once a week. The masters of the quartet were great friends, no matter how many times they argued and fussed at one another. Some of their disagreements were legendary, and still talked about among those who remember or witnessed the quarrels.

The masters' friendship had started years ago when both were newly knighted and accepted their first padawans. They were assigned to a mission to assist in transporting wounded to medical facilities on a backward, war torn planet. The planet was transitioning over to the Republic ways, to which many inhabitants disagreed, and a vicious faction had started to sabotage the local governing body. The Jedi masters and their new padawans were dispatched to protect the prince and his family of concubines and wives.

The two masters had worked rather awkwardly with each other, each trying to take control of the situation, and reminded each other, and their padawans, that they were only there as protection for the royal family. Unfortunately, with all the injured that needed help, emotions running high, and each wanting to prove themselves, the warnings the force screamed out went unnoticed by either master. They sent their padawans to a local medical facility as humanitarian aid.

The Jedi masters were knocked to the ground by a thunderous explosion, then felt the tearing at their minds as their training bonds were severed.

Mentally raw, empty, and painful, they stumbled through the rubble and realized that they had lost their first padawans in a blast that destroyed half a hospital, and killed over four hundred other innocents. Though they argued continually when they first met and never agreed on anything, they found a commonality in each other, and grieved for the loss of so many lives and their precious charges. A bond of solace was forged from that horrifying experience, to which both masters kept mainly between themselves, rarely discussing the incident with anyone.

Master Morra halted at a large pile of rubble and opened up his senses, sorting through all the turmoil flooding in around him and scanning for his friend's life signs. A flicker of life energy greeted the master, but it wasn't Jinn or Kenobi. It was one of the Aphian people.

Sighing, the Jedi Master focused on the force and started channeling a path through the debris. The Korddian's size enabled him to heave large chunks of durasteel and charred bricks out of the way, trying to focus on the source of the life sign that called helplessly into the force like a beacon. "I'm coming! Just hold on!"

Master Windu heard the other master's call and joined him, force shoving a boulder out of the way, and throwing clastic debris, helping to clear the path to the ailing individual. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his breath was coming in gasps with his exertions.

An avalanche of glowing, red-hot debris rained down from the top of the assemblage, cascading down to fill in the voids left by the large chunks removed by the hands of the Jedi. An internal shudder of shifting construction made more gusts of soot and smoke billow out, making the Jedi's eyes sting and burn.

Master Morra suddenly stopped, then grabbed the council member's arm and shook his head, "They're gone."

Closing his eyes sadly, the councilman sighed, "Let's move on. I don't sense any more life signs and I don't know how much time we have here until the battle finds its way to this region."

Morra nodded solemnly and followed the senior master to the next building. Padawan Zeller could be heard in the courtyard, struggling and arguing with the rubble he was trying to wade through as he searched the adjacent building.

Master Morra picked up pieces of wreckage and hurled them away with his hands aching from strain, calluses already starting to form along his palms and sweat starting to drip down his face. Smaller chunks of flotsam rained down, shifting the already precarious ruins, piled around like graves, marking where buildings returned to dust. Ashes and soot puffed out in clouds in the master's face, causing him to choke and splutter. His face was blackened with ashes, clinging to his sweaty fur. A small ring of gold could be seen through the thick soot surrounding his eyes, giving him an almost predatory look.

A large missile whistled overhead, the vortices causing the ground to shudder and the rocks to shift again. Fire swelled up beneath the slabs of duracrete, twisted metal and crumbling baked earth. Shrapnel rained down on the two master's heads as more of the building shifted in the aftershock of the missile's distant impact.

The remains of the building quaked with an aftershock, a large crack raced up the wall beside where the masters stood, bits of earth started to trickle down as ashen rain. With a look at each other, the two masters ran away from the crumbling establishment, just as the wall collapsed over the place where they were standing, and fire erupted from the bowels of the devastation.

"If the weapons don't kill us, the buildings will!" Master Windu shouted out in frustration. His exterior of calm and serenity was cracking with stress and fatigue.

"Mace," Master Morra breathed, his fur covered with flakes of the burned wreckage. He roughly grabbed the council members arm and pointed in the distance, "What is THAT?"

Windu looked confused, then followed the stare of his comrade and gasped as a strange creature emerged from dust and smoke filtering through the air. "It's one of the Aphian people."

"One of the rebels?" Morra asked in a hushed tone as the being approached.

"We'll soon find out," Master Windu answered, then smiled as the being stopped directly in front of the two Jedi masters.

A being the size of Master Windu stood before the two masters, a long deep blue, soot covered cloak hid its body. The top of its triangular head was donned with an ornamental wreath, matching the designs on the coat chest, and had a set of small antennae perched on top of its head. The being was obviously a member of a military group, by way of rank and designation on the dusty uniform.

A series of loud clicks, chirrs and snaps came out of the creature's mouth as it extended a clawed pincer towards the two Jedi. The small translator on the Jedi's collar took a few seconds to translate what the creature had said, "Honored Jedi. My Leader wishes to see you. Follow me."

The two masters exchanged looks, their thoughts clearly on the same thing –this must be the faction friendly to Jedi or else they wouldn't have been asked so nicely.

"Lead the way," Mace nodded.

The creature scuttled over the terrain easily, the large uniform cloak the creature wore muffled the sounds of many feet hitting the ground. The sound resembled a soft stampede.

"Padawan!" Morra called to the small figure pushing its way through another edifice riddled with destruction.

The small Arlieez apprentice stopped his searching and followed his master and council member behind the large, strangely lopsided, creature. As the padawan drew nearer, he gasped at the site of the being in the lead, and swallowed a large lump of anticipation that appeared in his throat. His blue eyes were wide with shock as he fell into step behind his mentor.

The three Jedi were led to a small annex of a tiny dwelling made of earth and reinforced with thick strips of durasteel. A rumbling of weapons fire and deep impacts from the continuing battle caused the small building to creak, its supports holding strong in the aftermath of blast waves and after shocks.

/This is probably the safest place on the planet./ Master Windu thought to himself as he was led inside to meet the leader.

The three Jedi approached a taller being than the one escorting them, this one also in a royal blue robe, but only draped across his shoulders and not shrouding his appearance.

The Aphian leader that greeted the Jedi was typical of the insectoid race, standing on three sets of multi-segmented legs that sprouted out of the beings thorax, and ended in flattened claws with thick pulvilli that muffled the sound of movement. The body was consistent with most insects, having a stomach, thorax, and head, but evolution had transformed the regular exoskeleton into a vast array of multi-layered sclerites that shone copper in the fading light. Two sets of 'arms' ending in chelae, sprouted out from the middle of the thorax. Large overlapping pinchers accented the mouth, the larger set opening to reveal the mouth surrounded by two sets of smaller, sharper mandibles. Large black, almond shaped, multi-facetted eyes dominated the triangular head, which was topped with three sets of cerci, sensory antennae. One dominate set, larger than a human arm, the other two sets were short and covered in miniature bristles.

The Aphian looked up from a small datasheet he was holding in his pincher-like hands, and let out an audible gasp, drowned out by the cries of war around him. He towered over two of the Jedi, but the third was a challenge to his height, and covered in a strange fur.

On Aphidia, caste systems ruled over the planet, sorting individuals by their height and prowess. The taller a being was, the higher ranked they were. This leader was almost eight feet in height and therefor, in charge of his armada. His impenetrable black eyes roamed over the three bipedal Jedi standing before him, trying to discern their ranks.

"Come to help your brothers," the being chirred, the Jedi's translator making the audio more acceptable to humanoid hearing.

"Yes," Master Windu answered, but the being focused more on Master Morra, obviously believing his stature meant his dominance of the group.

The Aphian leader blinked its opaque eyes lazily at the Korddian Master, ignoring the ranking council member, and clicked loudly. "We are controlling this region but for how long, I do not know."

Master Morra perceived the being's misinterpretation of their rank, "Master Windu has briefed us on the situation. We do not want any confrontations."

The Aphian leader regarded the dark council member for a moment, then returned his attention back to the large Korddian master. "We can not aid you in your search, but we can offer you some protection. You are safe as long as we are in control of this sector."

Master Morra bowed his head, "We appreciate your willingness to allow us to search for our brothers, and to offer us your protection. It is most gracious of you."

The Aphian leader bowed his triangular head in return, "We are honored to assist. However, not everyone of our kind believes you to be noble, and only wish you harmed. You must make yourselves blend in, or else you will become a target to those enemies that have infiltrated our borders and defenses."

"We will do whatever is necessary," Morra said firmly.

"You must not let others see you are not of Aphidia. Hide your faces and bodies. It is most important," the clicks, chirps, and whirrs filled the small enclosure as the Aphian gave out instructions.

The three Jedi raised their hoods, concealing their faces, and pulled their robes tighter around themselves, hiding the fact they lacked the extra sets of arms and pinchers.

"Excellent," the Aphian chimed into the translator. "Now, we have information to pass onto you." He turned his back momentarily, grabbing a durasheet and pushed it towards Master Morra. "This is the last information we have on your brothers. I hope it helps you."

Master Morra showed the durasheet to the councilman, who was disgruntled at his treatment, and to his padawan, who was still wearing a look of utmost shock upon his face. The three scanned the markings, none identifiable, and looked over to the Aphian leader.

"We can not read what this says," Master Windu took a step forward, trying to show his leadership in the trio.

The Aphian leader cocked his head and chirred, "I am sorry. I forgot you can't read our language. It says the youngest brother was at our refuge for weak and elderly. That establishment was destroyed in the first wave of attacks. There is nothing left of the building."

Padawan Zeller opened up his mouth for the first time to speak, "You mean, Padawan Kenobi is dead?"

The Aphian seemed ruffled by the youngsters' outburst and shifted uncomfortably on his clawed feet. He glared at the young Jedi, refusing to address his question.

"Was Padawan Kenobi killed in the attack?" Master Morra asked, returning the attention back to himself.

"The older brother was rushing to find the young one, and aid those that escaped the first bombing, but our intelligence tells us that he never made it to that location," the Aphian leader's triangular head rotated on its pivot as its eyes glared at the tall Jedi master. "Another explosion destroyed the building shortly after the first. We have found very few survivors. Unfortunately, they did not survive long."

A loud battle cry, followed by a series of thundering echoes of weapons, resounded close by. The sound of another building succumbing to disaster shook the ground.

"Where was Master Jinn's last location?" Master Morra pressed, knowing their time was running short.

The Aphian lead the Jedi trio around the corner of the enclosure and pointed down an alleyway that opened up onto crumbling intersections of walkways. "His last location was down there. I have no precise location to give you. I am sorry."

"We appreciate all you've done," Master Windu nodded and started heading down the alley, hoping against hope he would find his friend and his padawan in one piece.

"Keep hidden! We do not know how much longer we will be here to offer you protection," the Aphian chirred. The Jedi translator on Master Morra crackled with static as it translated.

"We will be on guard. Thank you for everything," Morra bowed quickly and followed his hurrying Jedi leader.

The Aphian clicked his hands in a gesture of departure and returned to his enclosure and troops.

Master Morra silently contemplated all the information. He was grateful for all the help the military leader had given, but under the current circumstances, it was nominal at best. The Aphian leader understandably had other concerns, but his information was sketchy, and knowing how the majority of the Aphian people thought about outsiders, the information only heightened fear and misgivings, not ease their minds and solve the immediate problems.

The master was also silently grateful for the translators that were provided to the group by the Jedi scientists. Most species, especially humans, couldn't reproduce the clicking and chirping noise the Aphidia people use to communicate. Several Jedi scientists had spent months creating translators that would enable communication between the Aphidia people and the diplomatic ambassadors sent by the Republic in hopes of settling the dispute between factions of government that were tearing Aphidia apart.

Master Windu spoke into the comm unit on his robes as he came to a halt at the center of the intersection the Aphian leader had pointed out, "This is Mace Windu. Raise your hoods to hide your identity. Also, I want half of you to cover the bombed out refuge center. The rest, converge on my transmission at once! We have reason to believe that Jinn is still alive and are somewhere in this area."

Several voices answered back, calling their destination and their estimated times of arrival.

Master Morra stood by the dark council member and frowned, "We have no information on either one being alive, only speculations and expectations."

Master Windu turned to his college, wiping his sweaty face on his sleeve. "We have no evidence to the contrary either. If I know Jinn and Kenobi, they are more than likely alive, and in desperate need of rescue."

"How can you be so sure? The Aphian leader said that Kenobi was at the refuge center when it was bombed and the survivors they did rescue didn't make it. And Master Jinn was on his way to the center, but never made it. How can you be so sure that either is still alive?" Morra's brow furrowed with worry and concern. He really wished his friend and padawan were safe, but logically speaking, the hopes that both were still alive were slim.

"I've known Qui-Gon Jinn my entire life," Mace grinned. "Every time he was thought dead, he has miraculously risen from the grave. He has an uncanny ability to thwart death and flirt with danger. A reason he has been brought before the council on many occasions, let me tell you."

The trio felt a surge of force, announcing the arrival of the search party. Three Jedi came running down a walkway, followed closely by a smaller trying to catch up to their companions, and caught the attention of the Korddian master. "I am well aware of the track record with those two. But you know Mace, even they can't cheat death so often and not fall short. It is bound to catch up with them sooner or later."

Mace sighed and rubbed his weary eyes. He knew what the other master spoke was truth, and his heart sank with the prospect. Nevertheless he remembered all the times that Jinn and Kenobi were thought dead, and had wandered into the Temple, completely drained, emotionally and physically, and surprised everyone, even those that held out hopes of their survival. It became a common knowledge that when they were believed to be dead, they would return, bloodied, battered, bruised, and using the last of their energy to find their way home.

Master Morra put his hand on his friend's shoulder and added, "I do hope this is one of the times where they cheated death again, and they return to the Temple. In whatever shape they care to appear." He added with a weak grin.

"I do too," Master Windu surveyed the devastation around him with darkened eyes, contemplating on where to begin.

Large buildings were crumpled, smoldering all around as the Jedi trio headed to meet up with their colleges.

The ruins and devastation scarred the landscape, and the Jedi teams wondered if they would have enough time to find their fallen brethren, or even attempt a rescue. The sound of weapons echoed around the tightly knit area, making the sounds magnify. Multiple feet pounded the ground, sounding like distant thunder, flashes lit up the sky as explosions rocked ground as the Jedi spread out to begin their new search.

The remains of buildings weren't the only setback. Bodies littered the ground, some dismembered, others scorched beyond recognition. The area was obviously a rural housing unit center. The Jedi held their breath when they came across an adusted body, choking on the stench of burnt scales and smoldering flesh. The thick robes the Jedi wore to conceal themselves from the locals that may attack slowed their progress, clinging to their bodies, soaked in sweat, and becoming discolored with ash and soot.

Shouts of shrill chirring and clicks reverberated painfully off the heightened hearing of the Jedi moving in coordinated search patterns around the perimeter. Chunks of metal and earth fell to the ground with heavy impacts, shrapnel peppered down from the debris smoking amid the dust clouds that filled the area.

Smoke rose from the flames that stretched up in large coils, like serpents lashing out at the marauders who dare to disturb their slumber. Buildings shuddered with each explosion, some collapsing under the pressure and aftershock of the blast, others creaked in warning, swaying precariously from side to side with eminent doom.

The billowing smoke began to shade the fading sunlight, making the job more difficult for the rescuers. Coughing and spluttering, Master Windu looked out over the landscape, watching the other Jedi teams searching the rubble for his long time friend. The force pulsed and crested like tidal waves with the manipulation of the Jedi teams, trying desperately to hone in on the life form that eluded them.

Master Morra lifted a chunk of duracrete and heaved it aside, the skin on the back of his hands split open and began to trickle blood through the golden fur. He cursed under his breath, then called out to the other master, "You realize it will be a miracle of the force if both of them survived this?"

A loud blast sang out into the air as pieces of bomb fragments fell from the rooftop of a swaying building. The ground shuttered, and a large crack snaked its way from the edge of the building, forking out and disappearing under other structures that were just as close to their demise.

"I know," Windu panted, using the force to move charred bodies out of the way, and laying them gently a small distance away. His own hands were covered in soot, and sporting a collection of wounds and abrasions from the shifting rubble that peppered down onto him without mercy.

The four Jedi that joined the master/padawan/council member team, quickly fanned out, coordinating their search. Starting on the opposite side of the courtyard, their criss cross pattern converging with the other Jedi team at a partially bombed out annex. Their heaves and groans of stressful pursuit could be heard around the plaza.

Master Windu threw a clast out of his way; sweat pouring down over his face with his exertion. He panted, and favored a glance over at a stationary figure. Padawan Zeller's eyes were closed, his hands were clenched into tight fists, and the force pulsed around the youngster. "Everything will be alright, padawan. You can meditate on this later, but right now, we can't afford the time."

Master Morra force shoved a large pipe out of his way, then looked over at his padawan, sweat glistened on his face and plastered his fur to his body, "Padawan, what do you sense?"

"He's not here," Padawan Zeller answered quietly, and began to walk away from the rubble of the building.

Master Morra clambered over the debris, abandoning his search, and started to walk slowly behind his padawan.

"What are you doing?" Master Windu shouted over another rumble of a chain reaction of explosions.

Master Morra grinned and pointed at his padawan, who was walking away with his eyes closed. "He could find anyone, and I mean ANYONE, under any circumstance. You could hide someone on the other side of Coruscant, in the deepest levels, surrounded by any force suppressant, and he could find them in a couple hours, blindfolded!"

Master Windu gave his companion a look of astonishment, "You're kidding!"

"No, I'm not," Master Morra replied, keeping a good distance away from his padawan who was winding a way through rubble and debris, navigating the path with exceptional force perceptions. "The Arlieez people are gifted telepaths. They don't need the force to sense someone."

"HERE!" Padawan Zeller called over his shoulder, pointing at an alleyway between two large buildings that were partially shelled out from the blasts. "He's down there. I can sense him!"

Master Windu focused on the force and felt the slight trance of consciousness just beyond a large section of fallen debris. "He's alive, but barely. We have to hurry!"

Master Morra dashed forward, his size a great advantage as he wound his way through the piles of durasteel, pipes, molding, and still active electrical cables. Sparks shot out into the air, charging the atmosphere with a sense of foreboding.

Master Windu grabbed his comm to alert the others searching in the area, "Junte, Pilo, Erty, Treys, we found Master Jinn. He's in an alley between two unstable buildings. Get here as soon as you can."

"We're on our way!" the master/padawan teams answered crisply.

"Help is coming!" Windu shouted out to master Morra as he hurled another clast out of the way. Padawan Zeller was a few feet behind his master, his concentration on the Jedi Master buried under the rubble, trying to send enough force energy to keep him stabilized.

The building shuddered as another blast wave hit it, wreckage rained down inside, causing a domino effect as the extra weight added to the burden the already strained structure was sustaining. The floors collapsed on top of one another, sandwiching the levels together in a compact fashion. The walls shuddered, then toppled inward, large chunks amassing on top of smaller pieces and crushing them into powder.

A large conduit snapped and fell from the overhead wires, writhing, twisting, and flailing about across the felled wreckage surrounding it, and automatically igniting every surface with its deadly charge. Master Windu pulled Padawan Zeller away from the lashing just in time, as the cable wiped around, its backlash grazing the padawan's robe and singeing the material.

"Be cautious, Padawan. It will do no good if you get there first, but have to be rescued yourself," the council member chided with a smile.

"Thank you, master," Padawan Zeller bowed his head and returned to the aiding of his master in removing the offending debris.

The missile blasts in the night sky lit up the scene with flashes, illuminating the cloaked figures pulling, dragging, carrying, and force pushing shrapnel out of their way, fighting to get to the figure buried within its depths, struggling to hold onto life.

"Master Windu!" Master Pilo shouted, running to the senior Jedi. "We are sorry for our delay. Padawan Erty was injured."

Master Windu nodded, glancing over and seeing the small humanoid padawan who was gingerly holding onto his shoulder that sported a huge tear in his robes. "Are you okay, Padawan Erty? Is it serious?"

The padawan raised his head defiantly, "I will be fine. I am still able to help search for Master Jinn."

Master Junte smiled as nodded as his charge, "You can assist by concentrating on the hulled building, make sure it doesn't collapse on top of us while we search. Padawan Treys will assist you."

A soot covered Rodian female stepped by her fellow padawans side and nodded. The duo, which were top of their class in force manipulation and control, closed their eyes and started to mount and channel their combined force prowess and allow it to swell and envelope the area, stabilizing it within a kind of force bubble.

The masters of the two padawans smiled to the council member, then started to force shove debris out of their path. Pieces of building, Aphian denizens that were caught in the wreckage, and twisted remains of durasteel supports were force pushed a safe distance away, where they wouldn't cause immediate danger to the Jedi struggling through the destruction.

Master Morra continued to channel through the alleyway, his golden fur and robes were plastered to his body as he heaved and hurled chunks of building and rocks out of the way. With a mighty force push, he moved a boulder the size of a cloud car up and over a small restraining wall, and saw a flash of deep brown material. "I FOUND HIM!"

Master Windu quickly joined Padawan Zeller to the Korddian Masters' side, panting from their own exertions, while the other two masters continued to clear away debris to make the area as safe as possible. The two padawans that were manipulating the force to prevent the demise of the partially destroyed building, continued their vigilance as the force peaked and swirled around them. Their concentration unbroken. Their wills resolute and determined.

A piece of deep brown paletot protruded from under a large piece of twisted metal, the remains of a missile casing, still hot from its ignition and impact.

Using his senses to check the conditions, Master Windu used the force to raise the large obstruction, and sent rubble cascading down in a sooty wisp and red hot coals that still smoldered.

"Junte!" Windu yelled. "I need you here to help move this debris!"

The Alderanian master hurried to his leader's side. "We have to do this one layer at a time, or the whole thing could collapse on top of him!"

Master Windu nodded, "I'll try to keep a force shield around him to buffer the debris that may slip through."

Master Morra stood by his colleague's side as focused the force, sending the offending wreckage scattering. With a force nudge, a chunk of melted vermicular durasteel shifted, the cascading effect sending the majority of the ruins backwards, away from the Jedi and making their path easier.

When the smaller rubbage was cleared away, Masters Morra and Junte assisted their leader in raising the last, boulder sized chunk of building that had cocooned a Jedi Master.

As the body of the fallen man came into view, the pale light of the dying sunlight lit up his face, but most importantly, brought his injuries into better perspective. Qui-Gon Jinns' head lolled as his limp body was freed from the section of building that had fell on him.

Master Windu reached for his comm and shouted, "We have Master Jinn! Keep looking for Kenobi! Healer Yet'ilia, we need help transporting the patient, he's severely injured. Use the locator on the comm to find us."

"I'm on my way," came the clipped reply.

"Mace, he's bleeding pretty badly," Master Morra said, checking Qui-Gon's pulse and gesturing to the large bloody stains splashed over the frail body.

Without hesitation, Windu pulled back the thick woolen overcoat and gasped as the full extent of his friends injuries struck him.

Qui-Gon's legs were mangled, sporting several long deep gashes, twisted up at a strange angle. A long, thin piece of shrapnel was embedded in his shoulder and neck, peeling back the skin and exposing the bubbly, fatty layer of skin and bone. A gash ran the length of the left side of his face; his hair stained in the mass of blood that was flowing freely from the wound hidden among the mane of hair. Large, deep bruises covered his face and neck and a collection of swollen lumps dotted his body, some still imprinted with what ever impacted the skin.

"It's going to be okay, Qui-Gon. The healer is on her way," Master Morra spoke softly, applying pressure to the bleeding gashes and using his limited force healing ability to keep the man lying prone on the ground stabilized.

Master Junte joined the two padawans, who were tiring of their force exertions and allowed the neighboring building to shiver slightly with the weakening of the force manipulation upon it.

A loud burst of static jolted the two Jedi administering to their downed comrade. One of the other masters voices filtered through, "Master Windu?"

"Yes, Mi'Lowi?"

"We found the place where the refugee center was. It's nothing but a crater," Master Mi'Lowi answered.

"Any sign of Kenobi?" Mace asked quickly, wishing for the answer, but dreading it all the same.

"We found a piece of metal, melted from a weapon impact and fused into the rock. It has the same characteristics and alloys that we use for our lightsabers. There is no way to be sure, and no way to tell that it's Kenobi's." Master Mi'Lowi panted into the comm.

"What about life signs? Have you been able to find anyone alive in the surrounding area?" Mace asked desperately.

"There are no life signs in the rubble or surrounding area, but he may have gotten out before the blast," Master Mi'Lowi replied, trying to inject some hope into her voice.

Qui-Gon stirred, his eyes fluttered open in a grimace, "O… Obi… Obiwan…"

Master Windu wiped the blood from his friend's eyes and held on to his lolling head and peered into unfocused deep blue eyes, "What about Obi-Wan? Where is he, Qui-Gon?"

Qui-Gon coughed painfully, winced, his breath coming in ragged, desperate wheezes, "Dead…..staying… dead."

"What?" Master Windu stuttered. "Obi-Wan is dead? Qui-Gon, are you sure?"

"My…. my fault… fault….he…" Qui-Gon rasped out. Pain seared through his mangled body, adding to the difficulty of breathing.

"What is your fault?" Master Morra prodded gently, sensing the man's consciousness fading. "Qui-Gon, where is Obi-Wan?"

"Obi… dead… stay.." Qui-Gon shuddered, let out a muffled sob, then fell limp against the ground as the pressure of his injuries and grief made his breathing too painful and he slipped away into a dreamless sleep.


	2. An Tús Go Deiradh

Title: **Fallen Embers**

Chapter Two: An Tús Go Deiradh. (The Start of the End)

All disclaimers and information in first chapter.

Reviewers: I wanted to say a special THANK YOU to all that had reviewed my story and sendyou alla Jedi as a thanks. Haydenfan89, charie, GN, organiser2000, jenjen511, Miluielwen, and j.f….. you guys ROCK! Hope you enjoy this chapter as well. Sorry it took so long to upload it but I have been having problems with my Word program.

!>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Healer Yet'ilia hurried through the thick, sooty atmosphere towards the ranking Jedi Master that summoned her. Her thin, pale yellow robe clung to her body as the heat from the surrounding battle charged the air with electricity and radiated intense heat from the bowels of destruction.

The female healer was tall and thin, with pale pink skin, and large curved ears that extended from the top of her head to her jaw, resembling small umbrellas on either side of her head. Her skills as a healer were renowned throughout the temple, her sanative abilities enhanced by her force perceptions.

The small comm unit in her petite hand beeped the direction where she would find the council master, and the downed Jedi that needed her assistance. A medpack was held in her hand, the four digits turning slightly discolored from her strong grasp.

Intensified hearing registered the militia in the distance, the sounds of weapon fire and high pitched yells pierced straight through the healer's heart, burdening it with sorrow and remorse for the lives lost, and the inhabitants that radiated so much anger and hatred.

Keeping her force perception tentatively open, she felt a tingle along her senses, warning her of the dangers that her eyes did not perceive. Waves of emotion roiled and rolled across her heightened senses, cresting and washing through her with such intensity that it nearly made the healer fall to her knees and give in to the weeping of the force around her as beings relinquished their lives.

She threaded through the debris, erupting fires, weapon shrapnel, and charred remains of dismembered inhabitants. Her mind fought to focus on getting through the wreckage and save the life of a Jedi that was depending on her. Her extensive training as a healer tickled up her spine and settled in her mind, reminding her that as a healer, she was bound by oath to aid EVERYONE that was hurt, and to ease their suffering.

Her rational mind overrode her years of training and the sanctity of the oath, telling her that she was there for one specific purpose, and reminding her that the battle and fallen soldiers weren't her concern. She was here to save one of her own, not allow her feelings to make rash judgments that could mean the death of a fellow Jedi.

/But how can anyone overlook all this death and destruction/ She asked herself as the outlines of several Jedi came into view.

Master Junte was standing next to two padawans, all three in deep concentration, the force swirling around them and enveloping the area. Master Pilo was force-pushing rubbage away from the group, his efforts clearing a stable path to the three Jedi stooping over a fourth, lying prone on the ground.

The healer ran over the cleared area easily, pulling out a scanner from her medpack and kneeling beside the fallen Jedi, "He has a concussion, several fractured ribs, both legs have multiple hairline fractures and internal bleeding."

A frantic male voice came over the comm, interrupting the healer's diagnosis with a burst of static and broken words, "Master…. Windu!"

"Yes?" Mace answered as he rose to stand. "What's wrong?"

"Master, the inhabitants are closing in on our position. We are hiding for now, but if they see us, they will attack," the reply was filled with static as the voice broke off.

A sound of shrill chirrs erupted from the comm unit as the transmission remained open. "Do whatever you have to do to get out of there," the unspoken question hung in the air for a tense moment, then Mace added, "Do whatever is necessary to ensure your safety."

The comm answered with solitary static and a beep, indicating the message was sent, but no response or affirmation on its received status.

A deafening sound uproariously filled the air as a large weapon, distorted through the haze of ash that blanketed the surface, the heat left in its wake reducing the surrounding fog into finer particles and evaporating them completely.

The three Jedi concentrating on the force didn't flinch or show any indication they were affected by the projectile that sailed so close to their location. Their eyes remained closed, their faces set, their concentration unwavering as the ground shuddered from the impact.

A deep rumbling started in the distance and steadily began to grow. A bright light filled the horizon as the violent heat from the large weapon's impact began to crawl its away across the scorched and barren earth, consuming the destruction and chaos with its pitiless rage of fire.

Far beneath the feet of the Jedi, a deep tremor shook through the core, gaining strength as it churned with pent up energy. An enormous sound, like several bombs impacting at once, filled the air.

Master Windu watched as the intensely fervent ebbs of the bomb's shock wave twisted and coiled upon itself, writhing in the air like a mass of intertwined serpents. Suddenly, a large fissure erupted, expelling steam high into the air, and mingling with the volatile roughage swirling around in the bombs destructive aftermath.

The comm unit clutched in the councilman's hand erupted with a burst of static, startling the dark master.

"Re… Repeat message," the static broke long enough to make out a few words.

Master Windu shouted into the comm, "Thade? Thade, what is going on? Report!"

A few seconds of silence followed, then burst with a clearer transmission, "We've encountered rebel forces. We're fighting them off, but I don't know for how long, and more reinforcements are coming!"

Master Windu griped the comm in a flair of momentary frustration and lack of patience, "Do whatever it takes to get back to the ship safely! We'll meet you there!"

"Yes sir!" the answer called, along with the shouts of the locals and weapons fire, followed by the song of whirling lightsabers, singing the harmony of perfectly balanced coordination and deadly accuracy.

Master Windu turned to his comrades, "We don't have much time. Can you move him?"

Healer Yet'ilia remained quiet for a moment, her fingers pressed to Master Jinn's temple. She opened her eyes and nodded, "He's stabilized for now, but I don't know how long he will remain that way."

"We don't have a choice," Master Morra said, tying off the last bandage onto his friends' body.

Healer Yet'ilia swung a small pack off her back and opened up the portable stretcher. She monitored Master Jinn's vitals as Master Morra and Padawan Zeller levitated him onto the mobile medbed, which showed a small readout screen above the patient's head.

Moving as quickly as she could, her arms and hands becoming a blur of motion, Yet'ilia secured the master tightly, and placed her hand along Qui-Gon's neck. Calling on the force and focusing the power now pulsing at her mental touch, she focused her abilities to stabilize the master's mind during transport and to slow the flow of blood to reduce the loss from the numerous wounds that erratically dotted his body.

Master Windu watched quietly, knowing the healer needed all her concentration and abilities. He waited until she opened her eyes and nodded once, gesturing to the leader that she had interconnected herself to the downed master, and that he was ready for transport.

Windu opened his mouth to order the evacuation, when a missile sped overhead, impacting the ground close by. The unstable building being supported by the Jedi force manipulators, gave a wobble, and leaned further over the rescue party, shrouding them in shadows.

Weapons fire ripped through the air as two combatant parties neared each other, their voices mingled and painful to the ears of the Jedi in the close vicinity.

The shouts of shrill voices concerned the Jedi entourage as the respond chirrs returned, indicating that the two groups would be converging close to the spot were the Jedi stood. The voices carried through the thick air, the echoes making the direction indistinguishable, but it was obvious they were coming nearer and nearer to the rescue party.

"They're heading this way!" Padawan Zeller shouted out to the others, his blue eyes wide with concern.

"Then let's not stay around for the welcoming party!" Master Morra called, grabbing one end of the stretcher. Master Windu grabbed the other end, and started out in a slow trot, increasing his speed when he detected Master Morra pushing forward, ushering him on. Healer Yet'ilia remained at the Qui-Gon's side, linked to his subconscious and supplying the mental connection to keep him alive.

When the two masters carried Master Jinn past, the two padawans and Master Junte released their force hold on the crumbling building that towered over the Jedi rescue party, allowing its emanate destruction to continue.

The retreating Jedi heard the sound of muffled thunder as the building quaked and relinquished its ability to stand. Debris rained down, peppering the already dusty Jedi; fires jumped high into the sky, igniting combustible materials, and snaking out, racing the Jedi down the alleyway. Large monoliths littered the ground in an erratic pattern as ash billowed into the air.

As the team raced towards the location of the shuttle winding and stumbling over the rough terrain, the force sang loudly in their ears with warnings. Master Junte and Padawan Erty took the lead, using the force to channel their path through the debris and to protect the Jedi behind them. Master Pilo and Padawan Treys took up the rear, protecting the Jedi entourage from behind in case of an attack.

As the party rounded a courtyard, Master Junte held up his hand, stopping the progress of the group. Master Windu looked questioningly at the other master, then heard the telltale sound of feet marching along in their direction.

Master Junte peered around the corner to see a large group of the multi-segmented creatures flooding down the street, weapons poised in front of them, and tumultuous voices echoing throughout the crowd as they marched adjacent to the hidden Jedi.

Junte closed his eyes, focusing on the force and sensing the end of the parade coming near. When the force surged through him, he leaned over again to see the way clear and motioned for the rest to follow him. He dashed across the street, his padawan at his heels.

The shuttle appeared through the thick ash swirling around the perimeter of the adusted park. The enormous relief the rescue party felt could have been sensed by a non-force sensitive. The landing platform descended down, welcoming the battered group aboard.

As the two healers waiting in the shuttle converged on their comrade and the downed master, the rest of the Jedi assembly arrived, panting, and covered in soot. Several were sporting injuries to various degrees, but their own aches and pains disappeared immediately with the glimpse to the Jedi now being prepped for take off on the medtable.

Their faces were blackened, making them take on a deaden look, but the underlying sense and facial features showed compassion and sympathy for their comrade. The force swirled with the knowledge that they were still one short in the rescue count. Many bowed their heads in sadness.

One of the healers assisting in Jinn's care looked over to the ashen faces, and exclaimed, "By the force!" She hurried over to a surly looking human male and took out a bioscanner and bacta infuser to begin his treatment. "You have to have these wounds tended to."

The master shook his head and pushed the healer away, "I will be fine. See to Master Jinn."

The healer looked as though she was going to argue, but the human master shook his head at her voiced concerns. She frowned, then turned to a senior padawan that was nursing a small cut on his forehead. He too shook his head and refused any treatments. The defiant stare of every Jedi inside the cargo hold bore straight into the healer, their statement clear.

They will not receive treatment while someone else desperately needed it more.

The healer put her hands on her hips, a tirade forming on her lips as the Jedi inside the craft refused to be tended. The reprimand never came as a thunderous crash outside the craft drowned out all noise. The deafening sound of silence followed, then erupted with vibrant chirrs as thousands of feet pounded the ground in their aggravated attempt to get to the small shuttle nestled on their terrain and housing their enemies.

Master Windu quickly closed the hatch, seeing an armada of multi-legged assailants running towards the shuttle, yelling their battle cries and weapons poised for their assault, "Jen'ber, GET US OUT OF HERE!"

The pilot chuckled over the comm., "Do you think I can't see the monsters coming at us?"

"DON'T MAKE ME COME UP THERE, JEN'BER!" Windu shouted, strapping himself in for the hasty takeoff he knew was coming.

The Jedi strapped themselves into their seats, their worries returning, remembering the landing and the haphazard flying the pilot seemed apt to doing.

Healer Yet'ilia braced herself against the wall with a restraining harness, and instructed her two colleagues to do the same. The three secured themselves beside the medtable, where it was locked into place with safety fasteners and magna-locks.

"You Jedi are all alike, you know that?" Jen'ber laughed, the army outside just a couple meters away from the craft. With a giddy voice and a cackle of laughter, the pilot shouted through the comm, "We have LIFTOFF LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!"

The engines blasted to life as the craft shuddered and rose up quickly off its makeshift-landing pad. Several Aphian people were caught in the heated vortices of the ships engines, their bodies falling in crumpled heaps and smoldering, cooked in their own shells like steamed crustaceans.

The shuttle darted from the hostile planets lower atmosphere, as if knowing it had overstayed its welcome. The cargo hold heated up again as the ship entered the upper biosphere.

Windu growled into the comm, "That was uncalled for! You didn't have to kill those people!"

"It was either us or them. Do you want to risk anymore of your friends, just for a single person? If you do, by all means, I'll land and you can hand pick the person to go out there and try to calm the locals," the pilot snapped back coolly.

"Just circle around until the area is clear so we can return to look for Padawan Kenobi!" Windu barked sternly, his tone warning against arguing.

"I would like to, but it looks like the locals are making sure we don't settle down again," Jen'ber said morosely, dipping down past the clouds of billowing smoke and ash. "The area is crawling with those ugly things. I doubt we'll be able to set back down again anytime soon. They look a bit pissed at us."

Windu pursed his lips together tightly, pronouncing every word slowly in his anger, "They wouldn't be upset if you just didn't cook their friends. You endangered any more attempts at rescue with your irresponsible, haphazard flying!"

"Oh, save it for the masses!" Jen'ber snapped back through the comm. "I did you a favor! Those 'locals' were going to kill all of you. You should thank me for saving your lives."

"THANK YOU?" Mace's eyes flashed dangerously. "Why, you …. "

"Hey!" Jen'ber interrupted with his smug superiority, "Remember, no one else wanted this job. They knew it was too risky to send in any kind of team with the instability and unfriendly nature of the locals. You knew good and well that lives would be lost in order to get your friend, so don't get that '_holy than thou'_ attitude with me. You are just as to blame as I am."

Windu looked furious, his dark eyes swirling more turbulent than a black hole, a vein throbbed at his temple and his fists clenched tightly as his teeth ground together in agitation.

Master Morra intercepted the tirade that was boiling by addressing the pilot, "We have Master Jinn, but Padawan Kenobi is still down there. Can you find _'somewhere'_ to sit down to allow us to continue searching?"

Jen'bers voice came back through the comm unit, "I wouldn't recommend it. There is still a lot of heat down there. If we land, we will be in more danger than before. The locals are now looking for us. It's not wise to set down again to search."

Healer Yet'ilia read over her scans again as the two healers assisting her concentrated on the force to heal and stabilize the downed master. "Qui-Gon has sustained severe trauma. I don't know if he can survive another bumpy landing or time as the teams search for his padawan. We've done all we can under the current circumstances." She looked imploringly over at the councilman, "It's time to accept the truth and return as soon as possible to save Qui-Gon's life."

"Qui-Gon said that Obi-Wan was dead. You heard him yourself," Morra said.

"That doesn't mean that he IS dead. Qui-Gon could just be mistaken," Mace argued, though he doubted it. The environment was too inhospitable for anyone to survive long, especially one, solitary padawan. He secretly hated the sensation that thought caused, his face hiding the distaste as bile rose in his throat.

"Mace, we would love to find Kenobi and take him home, but the point is, his master said he was dead and is on the verge of death himself. Don't risk his life for a wishful thought," Yet'ilia said softly.

Windu nodded, his tensions and anger driving out of him instantly and replaced with the serenity and calm of the force, "Yet'ilia is right. Jen'ber, take us home. I can't risk anyone else's life on the slim hope that Kenobi is alive." A deep dread caused his stomach to clench, his emotions twisting and turning as it churned over the pain and the feeling of failure gnawing at the master's mind.

"Are you sure you don't want to go back? I'm sure the locals would just LOVE to have you for supper. Literally," Jen'ber laughed through the comm as the shuttle exited the heated atmosphere, then cooled as it hit the chilled silence of space. "Hyperdrive engaged NOW. We will arrive at Coruscant in roughly eleven hours."

The Jedi inside the cargo hold let out a sigh of emotional relief as they felt the hyperdrive engines engage, and columns of stars shoot past the viewports, taking the weary travelers back home.

Windu closed his eyes as he fumed at the pilot and his lack of compassion and his foolhardy ways. He silently prayed that the next eleven hours would go by quickly, and that he could find his calm center before they land, or else there could be pieces of a pilot scattered across the landing pad at the temple.

Sensing the senior master's melancholy, Master Morra leaned closer and spoke softly so only he could hear, "Take solace, master. We were able to save one."

Weary eyes opened just a fraction, glancing sadly at the Korddian master, "I take no comfort in leaving one of our own behind. I find no peace within the force right now."

Morra lowered his eyes and sighed, "Neither do I."

Windu's face became impassive as he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the cool surface of the cargo hold wall. His mind sought answers, resolutions, but the force swirled around him, just out of his reach, as if refusing to take his burden of emotions any longer, and forcing the master to deal with his feelings on his own.

Qui-Gon floated around paralyzed in the thick ooze of bacta that suspended his body. His consciousness dragged itself around slowly; the sluggish feeling the bacta naturally induced making the ascent into consciousness difficult. His lift into awareness was strenuous, for the turbulent mental confusion and for his emotions that twisted around one another.

Struggling to reawaken his senses and open his eyes, the Jedi Master felt gentleness at his mind, easing and soothing him. He inwardly smiled; assuming his padawan was responsible for the guidance needed to come around.

When his eyes finally obeyed and opened up into a green-tinted world of bacta gel encasing his body, his initial reaction was shock, his limbs jerking and trying to free themselves from the heavy bonds surrounding them. A soft, distinguishable bubbling noise met his ears; his mind taking a few moments to realize it was the breathing mask exhaling into the healing liquid.

Two forms could be seen through the green haze in front of the semi-groggy master floating in the tomb of gelatinous liquid. One of them was tall, dark skinned, formidable and opposing in stature. The other figure was diminutive, with large drooping ears and green skin.

Masters Mace Windu, and Yoda.

They could see Qui-Gon's semi-alertness through the glass on the tank the master was submerged in, their eyes drawn and worried in their vigil.

Qui-Gon's eyes roamed the medical ward, searching for the smiling face of his padawan. His eyes drew down in confusion and concern, his breathing becoming labored as he realized Obi-Wan wasn't there, and no one seemed to be alerted to the absence.

Qui-Gon centered on the training bond linking him to his padawan, expecting to find the warm, loving presence that had been a part of his life for many happy, wondrous years.

The link felt cold and statically, as if it was an antiquated transmitting device long since beaten by the passage of time and weather. His mind tried to filter out the mixture it was receiving, and see if a reconnection to his padawan could be established. The answer was a feeling of extreme cold that overcame the Master. A cold so chilling it felt as if his bones were turned into ice.

The bond was closed.

Dead.

The urge to demand where his padawan is and what condition he was in and why he was forced to close down the bond, was more important than his own personal healing. In a desperate panic, Qui-Gon fought with the breather and sedating qualities of the bacta. He began to move against his healing bonds wrapped around his battered body. If Obi-Wan was in trouble and needing him, he would be by his side, despite his own injuries.

"What's he doing?" Mace yelled as a healer entered to check on the now loud alarm sounding from the bacta tank.

"He's awakened," Healer Yet'ilia snapped back. "I have to give him a stronger dose!"

Qui-Gon's eyes were wide, his hand slowly dragging itself to his face with intent of removing the breathing apparatus. His hand fumbled, shaking uncontrollably and dropping in exhaustion at his side. With a couple of strained breaths, he reached for his face once again, as he surged with newfound strength and determination.

He gazed imploringly at his former master, willing Yoda to listen to him as he struggling to remove the breather from his face. To beg him to find Obi-Wan. He tried to reopen the training link he shared with his former master, hoping to reconnect and send his worries directly into his master's mind, but to no avail. Too many years had passed since the link was used. The bond was dormant, now made recessive from the powerful training bond established with Obi-Wan. His pleas went unheard by the diminutive master, whose gaze was soft and sorrowful.

Yet'ilia injected a large dose of sedative into the tank, its effects almost immediate.

Qui-Gon slowed down his assault on the healing devices; his vision grew cloudy through the green liquid, his movements more sluggish and his body becoming more and more unresponsive. His legs felt like lead as they stopped obeying his mental command to move. His body wavered slightly in the gel, its synapses slowing down with the paralyzing agent being introduced into his system.

Through half-lidded, bleary eyes, Qui-Gon could see a smaller figure approaching, their details becoming more apparent as they neared. They didn't stop until they were just a few inches from the tank, and bright viridian eyes gazed up, twinkling with a radiant smile.

Qui-Gon looked down at Obi-Wan, his eyes filled with involuntary tears as his heart leapt up into his throat with relief and joy. He smiled at his charge, his eyes drooping even lower as the sedatives took a firm hold on him.

Obi-Wan's smile faltered as he looked up into the face of his mentor. His lips frowned with a suppressed cry, tears rolled down his cheeks as he placed his hand on the glass in front of his master.

Qui-Gon's consciousness was fading with the onslaught of medication, but he forced himself to battle through it, placing his hand on the glass opposite of his padawan's, and feeling the last bit of his energy drain from his exhausted body as his world went black.

When his master gave in to the sedatives overtaking his body, Obi-Wan's figure disappeared into a pale mist, evaporating into nothingness.

The two figures of Mace Windu and Master Yoda stared into the face of the now slumbering Jedi submerged in bacta, unaware of the exchange that just happened.

_**I can't feel my body. Am I dead? Is this the feeling of the force when one dies?**_

The tall Jedi master half-asleep floating in the tank of bacta, stirred in the thick liquid. His mind registering little details as it awoke, and taking a long time to decipher the predicament it was in as he rose into consciousness.

Cloudy, unfocused blue eyes opened slowly to a world of glutinous green liquid that made the masters vision more discolored and added to the distortion caused by the medications. A shadowed world of green haze and odd shapes greeted his eyes, which blinked slowly from the stupor caused by the sedatives.

_**It's so cold. When did it get so cold?**_

Qui-Gon shivered in the bacta gel floating around him. His body felt like it was made of duracrete, heavy and dense. His breathing was labored, deep breaths causing extreme pain as they expanded against sensitive ribs.

_**I'm at the Temple? How long have I been here?**_

A form grew clearer in his distorted vision, morphing from a blob to an outline of a person, though their features were still garbled as the master's vision waned. The figure was very tall, covered in a golden fur, and wearing long Jedi robes. The face was furrowed and set, as it stared into the semi-conscious, drugged face of the Jedi master.

**_Morra? Where is Obi-Wan? Where is my padawan?_**

Qui-Gon twitched as sharp stabs of pain wrenched through his body, causing it to involuntarily jerk and spasm. His throat constricted as if obstructed with cotton, causing shallow rattling gasps to escape the breather firmly over his face.

His body didn't respond to his mental commands of movement. His muscles felt sluggish, weak and leaden, and his equilibrium very disoriented with the medication racing through his recovering body. His breath was slowly becoming regular and deep as he involuntarily relaxed from the medication, a breather providing the support needed to sustain his life.

A tingling in the back of his mind sent a jolt of electric heat throughout him, warming him up instantly in the chill of bacta. The feeling wasn't painful or even uncomfortable. It was gentle and soothing like a warm balm.

_**Obi-Wan? **_

A smaller figure formed next to the towering master keeping vigil, this one instantly recognizable as Master Yoda, even through the tincture of green around Qui-Gon's senses.

Master, do you know where Obi-Wan is? Why don't you answer me? Tell me where my padawan is!

Qui-Gon fought through the condensed solution, trying desperately to get his arms to move. He hoped that if he thrashed around enough, the healers would remove him from the bacta, and he would be able to use his voice to demand to know what happened to Obi-Wan.

The monitors on the side of the bacta tank showed signs of distress, their alarms beeping and ringing out as the healers rushed to administer to the Jedi struggling in the tank.

_**Master! Answer me! Where is Obi-Wan?**_

Suddenly, there was a shadowed figure coming into view behind the Korddian Master. Standing one step back, two steps to the side. The custom place that a padawan stood.

The figure remained there for a few moments. Qui-Gon stared hard at the figure, desperate to make his eyes focus through the medication and thick gel surrounding him. He could feel himself becoming extremely tired and sleepy. The longing to give into sleep gnawed at his mind from his body's pleas, but the desperation to confirm Obi-Wan's safety was more important. Sleep would have to wait.

Healer Yet'ilia read over vitals on a small screen on the side of the tank, then looked up to stare at the master suspended in front of her. She followed his gaze, her eyes drawn down in confusion as the master stared into nothingness, seeing something that the others obviously didn't. Whatever the master was seeing, its presence seemed to calm the disabled master down.

"Yet'ilia, what is he doing?" Morra asked softly.

Yet'ilia shrugged, "I really don't know. One minute he was upset and the next, he's calm."

Yoda watched his former padawans' expressions, sighing heavily, "Much despair I sense in him. Confusion clouds his mind."

"That's all the medication we have to give him," Yet'ilia explained as Qui-Gon's face gazed blandly out through the liquid.

"No," Yoda shook his head. "Something else I feel within him." Yoda's eyes drew down in concentration. "Fear for him I do."

"But, he's calm now," Morra said. "Maybe it was just a by-product of the medications? Maybe he is hallucinating or the drugs are effecting more than what we thought?"

"Too many sedatives can cause hallucinogenic visions," Yet'ilia added thoughtfully, but shook her head, "But we have been careful to avoid the sedatives that cause reactions."

Yoda shook his head in dismissal, "Caused by medication, it is not. Can feel his emotions. True they are. Not clouded by drugs."

"Master, can you reinstate your training bond with him?" Morra asked hopefully.

"No. Been unused for too long it has. Stronger bond there is. Unable I would be, to reach him."

Morra frowned, "But if Kenobi is dead, then you should be able to reestablish your link, because the bond is severed."

Yoda sighed, deep in thought, "Raw and in pain he is right now. Needs to be healed further to sever the link on his own. Must sort out his own feelings to lay the past to rest. Would only damage and hurt him further, if linked to another without shutting down the first."

Qui-Gon ignored the three figures close together in deep conversation, unknowing that he was the center of their conversation. His eyes instead, were still fixed unblinkingly on the figure standing by the side of the tall master. The figure took a few steps forward, moving closer to the tank, its outlines coming into clearer focus as it neared the semi-coherent master.

The figure neared to reveal spiked ginger hair, blue-green eyes and a cheeky smile that always indicated mischief.

Obi-Wan.

Though the bacta gel was thick and un-cooperating, the Jedi master could see his apprentice though the discoloration and see the face of the youth that meant so much to him.

Obi-Wan smiled as he stepped forward, his hand rising in front of him, looking up adoringly into his master's face. There was a distinct twinkle in his eyes as he placed his hand on the glass in front of his master.

Oh, Obi-Wan, I thought I lost you! Can you understand what I'm saying? Can you hear me?

Obi-Wan's radiant smile lit up in front of the master's face with the answer, the smile infectious as the master tried to smile through the breathing mask placed over his face. Qui-Gon struggled through the ooze and after many tortured seconds, placed his hand against the glass, opposite of his padawan's hand pressed against the cool surface.

Obi-Wan smiled sadly as Qui-Gon's hand overshadowed his own. His eyes cast up to stare at his master, a hollowness now present in them, the twinkle no longer there. A tear traced down his cheek as he pursed his lips together, as though trying not to cry.

I'm sorry you were there Obi-Wan. I hope you can forgive me. I tried so hard to get to you.

Obi-Wan's eyes were a saddened swirl of oceanic blue and flooded with tears as he gazed at his master through the glass. He nodded his head once in understanding.

There was a brief, fleeting moment when Obi-Wan simply stared at his master, then Obi-Wan's eyes widened with a desperate, silent plea for help, The deep viridian turmoil in his eyes showed his increasing fear. Qui-Gon's brow furrowed, trying to understand the sudden change in his padawan's demeanor. He tried to access the training bond, and once again received static and a fuzzy buzz in his mind.

Qui-Gon stared at Obi-Wan, his face showing his concern and desperation to help his charge in his time of pain and suffering. He pulled at the restraints suspending him in the bacta gel, suddenly feeling the urge to be free of the paralyzing liquid and to console his anguished apprentice.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth as if to speak, his tragic eyes brimming with tears as he stared into his master's face. A fearful, silent scream exploded from Obi-Wan's mouth as a long red gash split across his cheek. A deep crimson stained his face and dripped down onto his robes, which upon closer inspection by the submerged master, soaked in many shades of blood.

Obi-Wan disappeared from sight with a puff of dense gray smoke, evaporating into nothingness, his fading handprint on the surface of the glass the only remainder of his presence.

The breather muffled Qui-Gon's gasp of surprise. He screamed through the tubes hooked into his throat, choking and spluttering, and began to thrash about in the bacta tank, his vitals skipping wildly on the monitor. Asphyxiating on the bacta seeping into the breathing unit, the Jedi master felt his consciousness slip away, his mental pleas of help and searing anguish cries unheard, as two worried Jedi watched helplessly nearby.

"Healer Yet'ilia, WHAT is going on?" Master Morra asked the healer as she administered another high dosage of medication to subdue Master Jinn.

Yet'ilia ran her hand through her soft downy white hair, "I don't know. He has enough sedatives in him to keep a bantha asleep for a month!"

"Strange it is," Yoda sighed, watching his ex-padawan float helplessly in the tank.

"Strange?" Yet'ilia exclaimed, her exhaustion effecting her attitude. "It's not strange, it's downright unfathomable! He should never be able to come to while he's in there!"

"Maybe he wakes up to see something," came the soft reply of Padawan Zeller.

"What do you mean padawan?" Morra asked.

"I mean, every time he wakes up, he does the same thing. He is upset for a few minutes, then calms down when something he sees makes him happy. But something must happen to whatever he sees, because he gets upset and tries to get out."

"That is a good theory, young one, but it is an unsupported one," Morra said.

Yoda gazed at the master suspended in the bacta tank, then glanced over to Padawan Zeller. "Right Padawan Zeller may be. Can sense Master Qui-Gon's emotions quite strongly I can. Sense abandonment, fear, worry from him. Then peace and happiness. A theory, it may be, but truth I feel it is."

Zeller blushed slightly, his normally blue eyes fading into a whitish-gray. It was rare to receive compliments from another master, let alone the head of the Jedi Council.

"I don't have time to speculate. I have.." Yet'ilia started.

An apprentice healer ran into the room, panting from the exertion from running down the hall. "Master Yet'ilia! Master Jinn is in a coma!"

"WHAT!" Yet'ilia shouted in alarm. "How can that be? The bacta monitors should have alerted us immediately!"

The apprentice caught her breath and explained, "I've been watching the monitor for Master Jinn's brain wave activity at the main terminal, and it spiked to over three hundred percent then suddenly dropped to barely six percent!"

"Six percent?" Yet'ilia breathed, running to the readout panel on the side of the bacta tank to confirm the lower reading. The screen glowed with new information it was receiving from the healing apparatuses surrounding Master Jinn. "That's a reading for brain damage." After scanning the readings, she turned to the apprentice healer and barked, "Get healer Zarc in here immediately! Master Jinns' brain swelled again, and if we don't treat it, he will suffer long term brain damage!"

The apprentice bowed and ran from the room to find the senior healer.

"WHAT?" the Korddian master shouted. "He was wide awake and alert a minute ago!"

"The strain overloaded his weakened body. He relapsed!" Yet'ilia spoke sharply over her shoulder, punching a code into the control panel. "The emotions were too much for him. He's mentally collapsed."

"He was healing in the bacta, you treated his injuries and stabilized him. Surely not high emotions caused this kind of relapse!" Morra said, watching the healer go about her work.

"I don't think emotions caused this kind of relapse. I think it's a delayed response to the trauma he sustained on Aphidia. Neurologically speaking, he is taking the trauma in steps. If we don't deal with it right away, he will have an emotional breakdown as his system starts to degrade from suppressed shock."

Master Morra just stared at the healer, his mouth slightly open and a worried frown etching his brow. "Wha…"

"I'm sorry masters, but I have to cut this visit short!" Yet'ilia snapped, starting up the program to bring the ailing master out of bacta and prepped for surgery.

"May the force be with you," Yoda said as Morra and Zeller followed him from the room.

Healer Zarc rushed past the retreating Jedi, pulling his robes on quickly, his hair tasseled, and dark rims under his eyes. The apprentice had obviously just awakened the healer up in the lounge, where the more committed staff members would catch small amounts of rest on the sleep-couches, standing by in case their patients needed their immediate attention.

Master Yoda led the way down the hall into a waiting area, one that was all too familiar to the diminutive master as he spent the past few days there awaiting news on his former padawan's condition as he underwent various stages of healing and recovery. Master Windu greeted the trio outside of the room. Seeing the pained expression on their faces, he asked what was troubling them, then felt his own heart drop in sorrow as Master Morra recounted the recent events.

When the senior master entered the room and perched on top of the softest pillow that he used as a bed for the past few days, he turned and addressed the other Jedi. "Need to be here, you do not."

"I disagree," Morra said plainly, ignoring the look of surprise on everyone's faces, for his lack of respect. "I feel we ALL need to be by Jinn's side. And yours."

Yoda nodded his head, "Appreciate it I do, but need it I do not. Spent many times in the healing ward I did when my padawan was young. Used to the wait I am."

"I doubt that," Mace said, taking Morra's lead with the lack of hierarchy reverence reserved for council members. "Nothing can ever make you used to the wait or the terrible thoughts that go through your mind when your padawan's life hangs in the balance."

"Concern me greatly it does. Assist the healers I can not. Be more of a hindrance I would be. Be faithful that the healers will do their job, I am. Leave them to it, I do," Yoda said, seating himself comfortably.

"Then we can stay here with you, and leave the healers to their work." Zeller said, sitting down on a chair and looking at the diminutive master with stubborn adoration.

Yoda chuckled slightly, "Need support I do not. Been here several times I have. Gotten used to the wait. Prefer the silence I do." Though it wasn't rough, there was a sense of finality in the diminutive master's voice.

Master Morra regarded the aged master and sighed, "We understand and respect your wishes master." He gestured for Padawan Zeller to follow him. "I believe my padawan and myself have a saber date."

Zeller nodded his head in obedience and followed his master to the door.

Master Morra turned, "If you need anything, don't hesitate to give me a yell."

Yoda bowed his head, "Will contact you if needed, I will."

Windu watched the master/padawan team leave, then threw himself unceremoniously into a chair, sighing heavily and rubbing his exhausted eyes with the heel of his hands.

Yoda sat quietly, watching the other council member through weary eyes. The silence stretched between them, the chrono on the wall nonchalantly ticking away the time. Windu stared down at the floor, lost in thought. Yoda patiently regarded his colleague, giving him time to formulate his thoughts, and call on the force to assist him with the seemingly enormous task of quelling his emotions.

Mace sighed, "You don't have to stay here you know? Yet'ilia will have him in surgery and then intensive care for awhile. You won't be allowed near him until he is stabilized to her liking. And besides, he doesn't know anything when he's sedated. He wouldn't know your there."

"True," Yoda nodded. "But feel it is my place, I do. Grown up he may be, but my apprentice, he always will be. Will be by him through everything I will. Alone he will never be."

Windu looked up into the face of the senior master and smiled slightly, "Amazing isn't it? We teach not to fear, not to worry, to release your feelings into the force and rely on it to see things through. But no matter what, when one close to our heart is in pain, we forget our own teachings and become worried, tense, apprehensive parents, bracing ourselves for the worst and hoping for the best."

"Can teach all we want. True nature it is to love and protect ones close to you. Can not fight instinct."

"He **_will_** be alright," Mace said firmly, as if hearing it with his own ears would solidify the outcome.

Yoda bowed his head sadly, "Hope, I do. But worry more for his mind, I fear. Very attached to young Kenobi he was."

Mace's face fell as he laced his hands together, his eyes becoming dark with deep sadness, "What will he do now that Kenobi is gone? Or worse, what will WE do?"

Yoda's ears drooped as he shook his head, "Know this I do not. Hard to accept it is."

"Qui-Gon will have a hard time with it, sorting out his feelings and memories. He will be very confused about what happened. Yet'ilia said not be surprised by total memory loss because of the trauma he sustained from the building that fell on him. She assured me that he should recover the majority of his memories with time. But there is a chance he may never recover _all_ of his memories, and I fear that will tear him apart. You realize he will want to go back and find Kenobi's body. I feel he will be most…. uncooperative with any decision we make."

Yoda harrumphed, "Stubborn he has always been. Makes him strong it does."

"And makes him a pain to everyone else."

"True that is, but dedicated to what he believes. When clear his mind is, see the truth he will."

Windu closed his eyes and lowered his head, "The question is will he see it, even if it IS the truth and NOT what he wants to believe?"

"Stubborn and disruptive he may be," Yoda said. "But always listened to the truth he did."

Mace frowned, drawing down his brow. The gesture could be interpreted as contemplation, but in this case, it was a sign of the visible battle going on within a soul to weep outwardly. "I can't imagine the pain of losing someone that close to you. I don't think I could stand it." He took several deep breaths, releasing his emotions into the force.

"Difficult it is," Yoda said very softly, bowing his head down in remorse. "Lost many padawans over the years I have. Get used to it, one does not."

Mace regained his composure and opened his eyes, "I'm sorry master. I did not mean to reopen old wounds."

"Heal completely they do not. Only lessen with time."

Mace lowered his eyes in respect. Several moments crept by before he spoke again, "What do you think made him come out of sedation like that?"

"Unsure I am," Yoda responded in a tired voice. "Sensed him I did. Concentrated on the living force strongly he did. But strange it felt."

"How so?" Mace asked.

"Hard to explain, it is," Yoda frowned, trying to find the right words to express what he sensed. "Clouded his connection was. Focused, yet, not."

"Do you think it was from the sedatives?"

"Sensed it before I have not," Yoda sighed, shaking his head, as if berating himself for not identifying anything further. "Something is responsible. Know it, I do. Explain it I can not."

"Could it just be because he is so stubborn?" Mace asked with just a trace of humor.

Yoda looked over at the fellow councilman; his face was set with a look of complete honesty and slight trace of fear, "Strong he is, but not that strong. Watch him very closely we must. Fear for his life I do."

Mace nodded ruefully.

Silence fell around the duo once again. The only sounds were the slow, steady breathing of the two council members, and the dampened sound of the healers scurrying about their duties.

After a few minutes, Mace rigidly rose, stretching out his tired body, "I'm going to turn in. I'll be back later on to check on you. Do you want me to bring you anything?"

Yoda blinked slowly up at his peer and shook his head, "Require nothing. Appreciate your efforts I do."

Mace bowed his head in respect, "It's the least I can do, master. If you do need something, you know where to find me." With a short nod, he disappeared through the door.

In the darkened room, the green master relaxed back onto a pillow, allowing himself to slip into a deep meditation. As he began to drift down, he mumbled under his breath, "Trust in the force we all must, but what to do when it is not enough?"


	3. No Storm Can Shake My Innermost Calm

**Fallen Embers**

Chapter Three: No Storm Can Shake My Inner Most Calm

All disclaimers and information is in the first chapter.

REVIEWERS: THANK YOU TO ALL REVIEWERS. I am sorry I cant upload on a more regular basis but for some reason this site doesnt want to support my .doc. I have to go in manually and change everything and it is time consuming... time which I do not have unfortunately. I only upload when I am certain I have made all the correct changes so the reader wont get lost or confused. Sorry it takes so long but I want it to be just perfect before I let anyone read it. Thank you for your understanding and patience and I hope to have another chapter done in a week.

Please take some time to tell me what you think of it so far. It will help me to determine where I need to go and what changes I need to make in the parts I already have written. Thank you once again!

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Healer Yet'ilia sighed, her eyes rimmed with dark circles and her shoulders slumped with fatigue, but she went directly to the awaiting master in the lounge to give him an update. Her body protested the abuse it was sustaining from lack of sleep and improper care, but her mind, exhausted and worn, demanded that she alert the senior council member waiting for an update on Master Jinn's condition. Putting her own fatigue behind her, she entered the small lounge.

Master Yoda was perched on top of a cushioned chair, his eyes soft and sympathetic, knowing the healer had been at work for over forty hours straight. He waited patiently as the healer entered, her exhaustion evident in her posture and worn expression.

"We have gotten him out of the danger zone. He is stabilized and in an open bacta tank and responding to the new medication. If he continues to progress, he will be out by this evening," Yet'ilia said, running a shaky hand through her downy hair.

"See him can I?" Yoda's eyes focused on the tired healer with a piercing stare.

Yet'ilia was going to deny the master, knowing that Master Jinn needed therapy and constant healing energy, and the diminutive master may get underfoot with his persistence. She opened her mouth to refuse, but sensed that Yoda would argue and continue to worry himself, and any further arguments would be a losing battle. With a heavy sigh, she resigned to the elder's wishes. "You may visit for a short time, but you must be decontaminated to enter the sterilized recovery area."

Yoda nodded his understanding and with surprising energy and grace of one over eight hundred years old, jumped from his cushion and hurried out of the room, calling over his shoulder, "Appreciate it I do. Sleep you need."

Yet'ilia groaned as her torpid joints reluctantly moved, sweeping the healer down the hall into the healers lounge, and to the sleepcouch that had been calling to her as she worked past her limits. Making a mental note to check over Master Yoda's health, she lay down on the couch and allowed the awaiting, welcoming darkness to overcome her exhausted body and drift into a deep sleep.

Yoda entered the decontamination unit and patiently waited as the compressed, steamed disinfectant billowed around him. When the cycle was complete, the door opened and allowed the diminutive master entrance into the sterilized atmosphere that housed his former padawan.

A healer standing watch over the downed knight bowed his head to the council member, then pulled a chair close by the open bacta treatment table so the master could see better.

The table was designed like a large oblong bowl, with a flat bottom and raised sides to prevent spillage. Qui-Gon was lying in the center. His head was lower than the rest of his body, the molding of the table allowing more coverage in the bacta. The thick gel pooled to about halfway up his body, with his head pocketed deep in the green ooze, covering his ears.

Master Yoda seated himself in the chair and gazed upon his apprentice's face, feeling as if something inside had been squashed and now laid raw and exposed.

Qui-Gon's face was still, stony. His eyes were closed; jaw set, and a slight frown on his lips. The steady rise and fall of his chest lulled listeners into the methodical rhythm, the sound peaceful, calm, serene. A soft harmony to the force, that seemed to cradle the downed master, and soothe all those around.

Yoda studied Qui-Gon's face for a moment, searching for signs of recognition or awareness. After a few minutes of complete silence, the master sighed, closed his eyes, and bowed his head. He focused on his former apprentice's mind, swirling and confusing in its clouded state, hoping that he would be able to make contact, now that Kenobi's link was severed.

Yoda felt his heart leap into his throat with the thought. Calling on the force to quell the emotions that started to build from the loss of Kenobi, he centered on Qui-Gon's mind, hoping to gain access and ease his padawan's tensions.

Instead of strong defensive shields that Qui-Gon usually kept tight in place around his mind, Yoda sensed a strange openness. Probing deeper, he felt an onslaught of fear, love, honor, and pride, with flashes of young Kenobi during his most joyous times, his most fearful, his most painful and worried, and his most precious, perilous journeys from all over the galaxy.

Images of Obi-Wan knelt in humiliation, and the sense of coldness from a master as he watched without remorse. Obi-Wan's face as he received his first birthday present, a rock, from his master, and the master's pain of wanting to give the boy so much more, but knowing it wasn't within his power. Obi-Wan being cared for in the healer's wing, and the emotions the worried knight had felt and the terrible pain that raced through his veins like poison when he wondered if his padawan would survive. Obi-Wan's face being the first thing the master saw when he awakened from his injuries, and the feeling of relief and joy upon finding a cheeky, viridian eyed padawan sleeping blissfully in a chair by his master's side. Obi-Wan's heartbroken eyes and his master's sympathetic understanding and consoling during the youths pain and loss.

Swirling, churning, and suffocating images and feelings swept the diminutive green master up in a whirlwind of colors and emotions from his former padawan's mind.

Qui-Gon's emotions and memories were so strong, they seemingly drowned Master Yoda, causing him to retract quickly from the feelings, and take several deep breaths to clear his own mind of confusion.

Saddened green eyes opened and slowly roamed over the knight sleeping in the bacta bed.

"Master?"

Yoda jerked out of his intense vigil to see Healer Yet'ilia standing next to him. "Sleeping you should be."

"I slept for a couple of hours. I was worried about you, so I thought I would stop by and see how you're doing," Yet'ilia said gently.

"Hours? Hours it has been?" Yoda repeated, trying to hide his shock. He must have been emerged in Qui-Gon's memories and emotions for a long time, not sensing the correct passage of time.

"Yes, you've been in here for almost three hours," Yet'ilia smiled.

"Turmoil I sense in him," Yoda said with a distant sound of pain in his voice. "Can sense his thoughts openly I can. Overwhelming it is."

"The medication he is on right now lowers force perceptions, so his shielding isn't as strong as it normally is. We have quarantined this area, with only senior staff allowed access to ensure that no '_unauthorized ears'_ can sense what is going on in his mind."

"Wise it was."

"I know that there are some things he holds private and that no one should take advantage of his lacking shields, so the other healers keep a force barrier in here to block out anyone who may want to 'listen in', so to speak."

Yoda nodded, knowing that Qui-Gon highly valued his privacy and wouldn't want anyone, not even his former master, to know what he has been through and the pain and suffering he has endured from missions. Not to mention the heartache from abandonment that was all consuming after Xanatos left, then resurfaced after Obi-Wan had joined the Melida/Daan resistance.

Those thoughts and feelings were best kept tucked away in the private, secret recesses in the Jedi Master's heart and mind. The wounds best not reopened, especially with the master in his current state.

After a few more minutes of silence, Master Yoda said, "Know you do, what caused the relapse?"

Yet'ilia sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, "As far as myself and Zarc can decipher, the delayed shock caused his brain to swell. It took us over twenty hours to stabilize his mind and emotions, then physically open his head to relieve the build-up of pressure, while trying to keep his force abilities to a minimum." With a curious look from Master Yoda, the healer clarified. "We couldn't give him any force suppressants because that would damage his mind with the state it was in. So we had to contend with his force abilities while trying to keep him stabilized and sort out all the problem areas and relieve the tension on his brain, while he fought against us. He was a very stubborn patient."

"Stubborn he always has been," Yoda sighed.

"Well, in this case it was a good thing. With the deterioration of the training bond he shared with young Kenobi, he needed all his strength to pull through this and survive the emotional battle."

Yoda gazed at Qui-Gon's face and shook his head, "Still battling he is."

"I know," Yet'ilia's voice was soft and sympathetic. "He still has a long recovery. His mind may be put back together, but the strain and the absence of Kenobi may be too much. I'm hoping the trauma he's sustained will be minimal, but there is a good chance that he will have some sort of repercussions, I just don't know to what extent."

The silence stretched again, until Yet'ilia whispered, "Do you think he will like the new hair cut I gave him?"

Yoda chuckled softly, noticing the side of his apprentice's head that had been shaved, and the nasty scar running a few inches along his scalp that showed where the healers had performed their complex surgeries to alleviate the swelling and repair the damage done by the falling building. The scar was already on the mend from the healing properties of the bacta. The thin red line receding by the hour as the patient physically recovered.

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Outside, the busy skyline of Coruscant went along its normal routine. The light of the sun fading into the distinct hues of indigo as the planet succumbed to the nocturnal weave of night. The shadowed tendrils of evening laced its long fingers around the buildings, rising up on their mighty faces and shrouding them into darkness.

The lines of traffic twinkled in the dusky air; the long drone of their engines echoed to the far distant reaches well below the city's main level, where the dregs and cunningly aggressive inhabitants dwelled, their lives unaffected by the change stretching across the city. Their very being and nature of the dark.

The top spires of the Jedi Temple relinquished their standing in the fading light, their windows glowing and adding a sense that life went on and did not end in the darkness. People could be seen wandering about the temple halls and rooms, their actions graceful, smooth, and with great comfort, to those who wished to waste their time in the meaningless endeavor to stare at the building for prolonged time.

Though those on the outside could see peace, harmony, and quiet reverence on the faces of the Jedi inside, the temple was bubbling over with pain and sorrow, which did not show itself to the outside world. The halls echoed faintly of the forgotten ones that stray, the walls whispering the names of those that no longer hear them, the hearts filled with intense grief and remembrance that comes with loss.

A soft illumination filled a small recovery room that contained a sedated Jedi Master recently removed from a concentrated bacta bath and deemed stable enough to not require the constant attention to his life signs by various machines and healers. The reinforced double doors shut out the normal hum of the medical ward, allowing the patient peace and quiet not often found in a hospital. A large bay window opened up into the hall, allowing visitors to watch over the recuperating center of their worries.

At the window, six individuals stood. Healer Yet'ilia, in charge of Master Jinn's recovery, Council Members Mace Windu and Depa Billaba, both of whom were close friends of the esteemed Jedi. Master Morra and Padawan Zeller were standing next to Master Yoda, whose ears were drooping in exhaustion, having spent the majority of his former padawan's recovery at his side as he was shuttled from one medical area to another from his latest surgery and bacta treatments.

"What happened Yet'ilia? Why did he act like that while in bacta and why did he relapse?" Master Windu asked hoarsely his own nerves were frayed from checking on a stubborn Yoda throughout the long sleepless nights and arguing with the senior member about sleep and priorities.

Healer Yet'ilia sighed, her light gray eyes watching over the Jedi master in the observation room. "We don't know what made him come out of sedation, nor what upset him and caused him to fight like that. But the swelling was a side effect of the trauma he sustained on planet, and the added pain of a severed training bond, caused him to go into a mental breakdown."

Master Windu commented rather icily, "He seems to revive every time he's in bacta. Are you SURE he was sedated?"

Healer Yet'ilia whirled around to face the councilman, her skin flushed with rage, "Of course he was sedated! I'm not an initiate! I know what I'm doing! I've been doing this for longer than you have breathed, so don't go giving me grief over an unexplained incident!"

"Calm yourself you will. Does no one good to argue," Yoda intervened, sensing the building of tension with the burden of sleep deprivation.

The two Jedi settled themselves and watched the slow steady rise and fall of Master Jinns' chest.

"Know do you, why he reacts that way? How he fights it?" Yoda asked hesitantly.

"We had to give him so many kinds of medication to aid his body in healing, that it caused a slight imbalance in his system," Yet'ilia explained with a more patient sound in her voice. "That, coupled with the severe stress he's going through by coming out of sedation in bacta, has done a lot of damage to his nervous system. With Master Zarc's help, we were able to review and isolate what caused the relapse. It was due to a strange force anomaly that we couldn't identify."

Master Windu turned to study the healers face closely, "What do you mean?"

"I mean it was like someone was in Master Jinn's mind, but yet, wasn't. The force seemed to flow through him normally, but would…" Yet'ilia paused, searching for the right word to explain the condition. "It would stutter. That's why it was so difficult for us to perform surgery to relieve the pressure, and why we had problems focusing and aiding in his healing."

"Stutter?" Depa asked curiously. "How can the force _stutter_?"

"It's hard to explain, but it was like the force wanted to have total access to his mind, like it normally does for any Jedi, but it would break away, then taper off and not focus on him. We couldn't get the force to boost his healing or soothe his mind," Yet'ilia explained through a stifled yawn.

"Why?" Windu questioned.

"I don't know. It was like the force could sense something underlying that we could not, and found the problem too severe for assistance. Not to mention his force sensitivity was compromised with the pressure of shock, and would fight against us as we tried to stabilize him."

"Could it have caused brain damage?" Mace asked with a worried frown.

"To an extent, yes. There's no real way to be sure of that yet, though. The more prominent problem is the training bond," Yet'ilia took a few deep breaths, clearly bothered by the thought of Obi-Wan gone. "The medication keeps him subdued to heal, but his mind is still very raw and empty without the other part of the training bond. It's hindering his progress."

"Could that be the anomaly you sensed that is causing the force to react so strangely?" Depa asked.

"No. The training bond is hindering his progress because there isn't anyone who can reach him on that level to help him sort out his emotions and seal the gap that is caused in Kenobi's absence. The anomaly is from something else, that's why the force is behaving so strangely."

The healer, three council members, and master/padawan team stared into Master Jinn's room. No one finding their voice to speak, for fear of saying something that may destroy the entire ward with its implications.

What if Qui-Gon DIDN'T want to heal and was causing the unexplained anomaly? Maybe he realized Obi-Wan was gone and decided there wasn't anything worth living for and is slowly shutting himself down? Maybe the death of the bond caused more damage than first anticipated? Perhaps Master Jinn and Padawan Kenobi were bonded closer than anyone realized, and if one dies, the other is shortly behind?

Morra broke the long silence with a gentle voice, "How is well is his body healing?"

Healer Yet'ilia shook her head, "Physically, he's healing quickly. The first surgery fixed his broken ribs and punctured liver. We were able to reset the bones in his legs and keep the bone knitter on him for as long as was allowed. The second surgery allowed us to further stabilize his nervous system. He was in bacta, recovering when he slipped into a coma after that last attack, and Healer Zarc had to perform a complicated procedure to alleviate the trauma to his nervous system. The swelling went down after nearly twenty hours of force manipulation from Zarc and myself, but until he wakes up, there is no way to tell how extensive his mental injuries are and to what degree."

"Will he be alright?" Padawan Zeller asked, his tone hushed as he watched through the bay window with a worried frown.

"His body is stabilized and repaired. He's in the last stage of the surgical recovery, healing well, but as for neurological and emotional health, we just have to wait until he wakes up," Yet'ilia smiled, placing her hand on the short padawan's shoulder. "He should be unconscious for several more hours, then the sedatives will slowly wear off."

Depa sighed, "We should get some rest. ALL of us." She looked pointedly at the small master perched on top of a chair next to her, gazing into the window at his former padawan.

Yoda had remained silent through the exchange, his eyes fixed onto his former padawan's regular breathing. When he sensed everyone's eyes upon him, he huffed up and glared at his fellow council member, "A child I am not. Old enough I am to not require a bedtime. When eight hundred years old you reach, bedtime will you be able to set for yourself."

Depa grinned and yawned, "Well, since I have to fill in as negotiator for the Min'a'cur delegation tomorrow, I should go and get some sleep."

Everyone nodded in agreement, except for Yoda, and started to say their goodnights.

"Maybe a little meditation before bed," Master Windu sighed, his normally sharp and calculating eyes, were now dull, tired, and rimmed with dark circles.

"Good idea," Morra smiled. "I think I could do with some meditations myself, while all good little padawans nestled in their beds and sound asleep for lessons early in the morning."

Padawan Zeller nodded, taking his eyes away from the master lying in intensive care, and gazed thoughtfully around to the faces around him, "But what about those padawans lost, who are far away from home and their nice warm beds?"

Every Jedi felt their hearts drop like a heavy stone in the pit of their stomachs with dread and anguish as padawan Zeller walked slowly down the hall. The silence was deafening as each felt a strange ache in their chest, a clench of some horrible notion, a knowing relation that a certain Jedi Master would be devastated when he awakens, and finds himself all alone.

Master Windu looked pointedly at Yoda, his expression showing his grief. "Do you need me to stop by again tonight?"

"No," Yoda shook his head, his ears drooped even more. It was a rare show of his emotions, but more importantly, showed his dedication and loyalty to his former padawan and the exhausted lengths he would go to ensure his padawan's well-being. "Leave shortly I will. Be here in the morning I must be."

Master Windu bowed his head and escorted Depa to the lift. They entered and turned, staring at the scene before them in quiet contemplation. The lift doors framed the picture of the medical ward hall, with a small, ancient master keeping watch through a large window at his padawan.

The door hissed closed and encased the two in silence as they descended down to the levels of their sleeping quarters. The first stop was Master Billaba's level. She stepped out and turned to her former master, a look of total disbelief on her face, "Do you think there is any hope Kenobi is alive, Master?"

Master Windu's face reflected his own sorrow as he shook his head sadly, "I don't see how, Little One. The locals weren't too friendly, and I doubt even a fully functioning Jedi team could survive long in that wasteland, let alone a solitary padawan."

"But there's always hope…right?" Depa pressed, her eyes were filling with tears.

Mace sighed heavily, "I wouldn't count on it. When we found Qui-Gon, he came to long enough to tell us that Obi-Wan was dead."

Depa gasped, and leaned against the frame of the lift, taking the news hard, "Oh, force." Her voice choked off as she tried to speak, her sobs interrupting her thoughts.

Master Windu stepped out of the lift and pulled his padawan into his arms, burying his face in her hair. Tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes, his entire being beginning to crumble as he shook with sorrow. His arms enveloped her body, as if trying to shelter her away from harm and pain. His heart clenched painfully, imagining what he would do and feel if someone told him that his padawan had been lost, and the pain doubled in his chest, knowing the fate that awaited his friend when he woke.

Depa stayed enclosed in her master's arms for a long time, immersing herself in her his presence, breathing in his scent, feeling the warmth of his body, and the tenderness he carried in his heart for his apprentice, now grown up and powerful in her own right. For the moment, she was a scared child once again, being consoled and soothed by her mentor of so many years. Her fears and anguish chased away by the stoic masters presence, and sheltered by his formidable parental instinct to protect his padawan.

She cried hard. Harder than she ever thought was possible.

Immense sorrow and grief for the lost life of a promising, young, exceptionally gifted viridian-eyed padawan. And for the Jedi master, still unconscious, that will wake to find half of his soul missing.

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"You can open your eyes now. Come on," Master Windu's voice seemed distant and hollow to the man lying on the medical bed, looking worse for wear. Gently and softly the councilman prodded, "Come on, Qui-Gon. I know you are awake, your eye is twitching, like it always does when you feign sleep."

Heavy lids opened a crevice, then as the sensitive eyes beneath the hooded lashes adjusted to the light, opened fully to reveal deep cobalt blue eyes, still slightly out of focus from the drug-induced haze.

Windu leaned over his friend's face, and noted the still somewhat glazed over look that is a nasty aftereffect of the sedatives used in bacta treatments, "Welcome to the world of the living, old friend. Can you speak?"

A deep grumbling issued from Qui-Gon, his body still slurred and sluggish from the medication. His glazed eyes swept nonchalantly around the room, focussing and adjusting impossible through the dense haze in his mind, interrupting his vision and interpretation process.

Master Windu watched his friend's unfocused eyes move about the room, their clouded blue depths finally falling on the council members face above him.

Qui-Gon's eyes drew down as Mace's face came into better focus, his mind registering where he was. He tried to speak again, only causing a raspy, harsh noise to escape his throat and a shuddered hiss to escape his lips.

Master Windu shook his head, "Don't worry, Qui-Gon. You are safe in the temple. Everything is going to be just fine."

A strange lopsided smile spread across the downed master's face as his eyes rolled back into his head and unconsciousness claimed him, pulling him deep down into the depths of dreams and images of his padawan, safe and sound by his side.

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Dusk came and went and stretched into the late hours of the night with Qui-Gon in a deep sleep, watched over in turn, by his friends and former master. As the early morning tendrils of topaz etched through the temple windows of the birthing sun, a moan startled the slumbering councilman. Master Windu sat up in his chair, trying to determine where the noise issued from, then realized that Qui-Gon was awake.

Leaning over his friends face, he noted that the glazed over look was less pronounced, though still somewhat reminiscent. With a tired, relieved sigh, he asked, "How are you feeling?"

A deep raspy noise escaped Qui-Gon's throat as he ordered his vocal cords to obey his command to speak. A tightening clenched his chest, the air coming in gasps and wisps into his injured body as it was forced to resume its natural movements. He licked his dry lips and growled, "Obi… Obi-Wan… where?"

Mace hesitated, pulling up the strewn blankets and tucking them in tightly around his friend. "I don't really know."

"Find…him."

Windu frowned, wondering if the words were a command to find the youth, or a question asking about the search result, "We looked for as long as we could, but the natives were extremely angry at our presence and attacked. We barely got YOU out alive."

Qui-Gon's semi-focused eyes darted to his friends face, his brow creasing, "What….do you… mean?" His rough voice was steadily becoming stronger and laced with anger.

"On planet. We tried to find…." Mace started.

"No, not on planet!" Qui-Gon grumbled with an annoyed expression. "Here. Obi-Wan is here. I saw him."

"You couldn't have seen him. We never found his body."

Qui-Gon's eyes widened and his voice sounded deep in his chest, rumbling up from the deepest, darkest, innermost recess, "WHAT?" Qui-Gon's voice cracked as he wheezed through the pain that tore at his sore throat and healing lungs.

Master Windu sat down in a chair by the bedside and exhaled slowly, "Qui-Gon, you've been under extreme stress and extensive injuries. You've had three surgeries and numerous bacta treatments over the course of your recovery."

Qui-Gon stared at his friend through somewhat distant, clouded eyes, "What are you…. talking about Mace?"

Windu ran his hand over his head, trying to construct the best way to break the news. "Qui-Gon, you've been in the Temple 's intensive care for fifteen days."

Qui-Gon's ears heard the information, but his brain didn't seem to register the information, his rational mind not wanting to believe what it heard. His eyes blinked rapidly, fighting the tears that wanted to well up, "What? It can't be." His head shook with disbelief.

"Obi-Wan isn't here. We never found his body," Windu's voice lowered to a whisper as he fought to control a fresh wave of pity upon seeing his friend's face draw down in pain with the news.

"He's….he's… not dead!" Qui-Gon's voice rose, the gruffness ignored in his strained throat.

"Qui-Gon, you said so yourself when we found you. Obi-Wan is dead. YOU told us that he was dead."

Qui-Gon's stunned face stared blankly ahead into nothingness; his heart was pounding in his chest, and his mind clouding over with vague images, "I must have been…. mistaken." He frowned in concentration, his breath shallow as he mumbled, "A mistake…… mistake."

"You were quite plain. We wanted to go and search for his body, but we couldn't risk losing you," Windu shook his head, placing his hand on his friend's arm, feeling it tremble. Qui-Gon's face turned to the councilman, his eyes asking a silent question, but master Windu added before the question could be spoken. "The planet is in the middle of a deadly war between all factions. There are rumors of mass destruction weapons being deployed by several of them. Strategically speaking, we wouldn't stand a chance of finding him."

Qui-Gon jerked his arm away from his friend, as if the contact had caused him serious pain. His arm shook violently as it hung in midair, the muscles twitching and involuntarily jerking his arm until it collapsed on the bed where it continued to spasm. His brow furrowed and he turned a worried glance over to the dark master at his side, "What's wrong with me?"

"You are suffering from ataxia," said a voice in the doorway. Healer Yet'ilia smiled and entered the room, checking the screen that read vitals above her patient's bed. She saw the master's confused look and elaborated, "It's a condition that affects your ability to perform coordinated movements and muscle control. Since there was so much swelling on your brain, and then the coma you were in, you have some side effects that should disappear in a few days of intense therapy, proper treatment, and plenty of rest."

Qui-Gon took a deep breath, addressing the healer with his blue eyes focused and distraught, "Please tell… me…. Obi… Obi-Wan is safe?" His voice hitched as his breathing became heavy and ragged once again as tears threatened to fall. His eyes seemed to clear, their cobalt depths pleading with the healer, silently asking that she counter what Mace had said.

Yet'ilia's light pink skin flushed to ashen pale, her species way of showing anxiety, "I'm sorry, Qui-Gon. We tried to find his body, but there was only a crater left at the refuge center. You confirmed that he didn't survive."

The confirming news was like a bolt of lightning into the master's heart. He inhaled sharply, squeezing his eyes shut, and trying to breathe regularly through the spasms that shook him to the core, "No." He whispered. "No. It was a mistake."

A sharp stab of pain raced through Qui-Gon's body, causing him to catch his breath and clench his teeth from the pain. White-hot heat coiled and uncoiled in his stomach, then lashed out through his veins, seemingly burning him from the inside out, writhing, twisting, building and dispersing in crescendos and decrescendos.

With a sudden, painful twitch, the heat and spasms stopped, allowing the master's body to fall limp against the bed and tremble with exhaustion, his breath shallow and uneven.

Yet'ilia closed her eyes, sending soft, comforting waves of force healing energy into the frail body now gasping for breath and shaking from its exertions. The energy was absorbed, then disbursed out in the force, as if rejecting the healer's implements. Yet'ilia opened her eyes, frowning at the master in uncertainty.

After a few shaky breaths, Qui-Gon regained his control, "Thank you." He swallowed hard, feeling a tight restriction in his throat and lungs.

Yet'ilia bowed her head, her face still drawn in suspicion and concern.

"Qui-Gon, can you remember anything from your time on Aphidia?" Mace asked gently.

Loud, raspy breaths rattled out of Qui-Gon, his ribs sending stabbing pains around his chest, "… I … I can't remember."

"Anything? Anything at all?" Mace pressed.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, his ragged breathing the only sound in the room. Images and memories flashed before his eyes, distorted, painful, helpless.

Images…. Mostly blobs and distorted colors mixed together, melting, contorting, blending together. Outlines mottled together and reshaping into other forms. The patterns cleared, revealing the images to be people, insect in origin, their faces blurred and unrecognizable, but their build synonymous with myriapods.

"People…" Qui-Gon muttered softly, his eyes still closed and his mind straining to make sense of what was around it and filter out any useful information. He slowed his breathing, trying to access the force to allow him to find his center and focus on his memories that eluded him and avoided the surface of his mind.

Yet'ilia and Master Windu remained quiet, watching the stricken master with concern, hope, and Yet'ilia's case, suspicion.

Qui-Gon scrunched up his face, his mind taking longer than normal to decipher the images it was recollecting. Emotions filled his senses, though they seemed distant and vague- an echo, an imprint left behind. Visions swam before the master's eyes, sounds softly replayed in his ears, feelings swept by fleetingly through his mind.

**_Several insectoid people running, screaming, pleading for their lives. Hatred slamming into the master's mind, fear spreading throughout his body as he walked purposefully, desperation leading his way through the throngs of crowded streets and busy walkways._**

The images blurred and distorted into nothing more than mere shapes, the feelings and pictures ephemeral in the master's mind. His heart beat in his ears, sounding like a deep bass drum and pounding painfully in his chest, "Pain…. There was pain… and fear."

Windu looked thoughtful and nodded, "Do you know the source? Can you remember anything else?"

Qui-Gon shuttered once, his breathing irregular and shallow, the sound of his heart almost deafening in his ears. He closed his eyes again, calling on the force to aid in his remembrance of the events on planet. A swirl of colors flashed before his eyes, fear gripped his heart, splatters of blood painted across his vision, a terrified scream from an unknown source, and a strange, hollow cry for help that was broken and distorted in the master's mind.

**_"Master!. .. people.. .being… executed!" _**

Qui-Gon gasped, straining through invisible bonds, his back arching slightly off the bed, his breath caught in his throat, veins throbbing at his temples. Powerful sensations of hatred and fear ripped through him, sending his mind into a dizzying swirl of mixed images and threaded emotions, pieced and torn, thrown together in a shabby collage that painted the portrait of death and destruction.

Obi-Wan's face filtered past the master's inner vision, the pictures unfocused and twisting upon one another, superimposing and underdeveloped all in one massive ball of confusion.

_"Master!… I've been marked…. for death…"_

"OBI-WAN!" Qui-gon gasped, falling against the bed, his body jerking and trembling as his eyes darted fretfully around the room. The sudden shock, thankfully, had restarted the master's automatic response to breathe. Inhaling deeply, his lungs jabbed against the restraints of his ribs and caused him to wince as they expanded desperately to supply his body with oxygen.

"Qui-Gon? Qui-Gon, look at me!" Yet'ilia was hovering over the master's face, holding his face in her hands. "I need you to look at me." The healer opened her senses, trying to send reassuring waves of force energy into his mind, but only met a block, one which repelled her efforts and emotionally stunned her.

Qui-Gon's eyes flashed to the healer, their piercing blue laced with anxiety and wide with fear.

"Qui-Gon, can you hear me?" Yet'ilia channeled the force into his mind, hoping to find a way around the block, but detected that other shields had been erected, preventing any kind of outside interference. The situation made the healer feel very uneasy and worried, which she put away to the back of her mind to be meditated upon later.

Qui-Gon sucked for air, gasping, his eyes watering, and pain racing through his body. He nodded, then tried to speak, "I… I… Obi-Wan… marked…. For death…. They… they were going… to kill him."

"You remembered?" Yet'ilia asked hesitantly, her suspicion mounting with the mental interference that she couldn't pinpoint and the strength projected by the strong mental blocks.

"Marked for death?" Mace whispered in disbelief. "But he was accompanying an ambassador… how could he have been marked for death?"

Qui-Gon's eyes shut tightly, tears spilling down the side of his face and dampening the pillow, "I don't…. I don't know. I can't remember anything else… It's… its all so confusing."

"That is enough right now," Yet'ilia snapped, more to Maser Windu. "Qui-Gon, you need rest. Maybe you can remember more later, when you are more rested." She smiled gently down at the master.

A muffled sob escaped Qui-Gon's lips, "I want… want to remember. I want Obi-Wan…. back."

Yet'ilia's face drew down with sadness as she looked on the grieving master. She laid a gentle hand on his, "Everything will be alright."

"I'm sorry, Qui-Gon," Windu said ruefully.

Qui-Gon pulled his hand away, sobs racking his body as he tried to speak, the spasms shaking him to the core, "It won't… won't be alright… ever again.."

"Qui-Gon, I know it seems painful now…" Mace started.

Qui-gon flared up, his voice cracked and raspy as he shouted, "Get out! Both… both of you!…. Out!"

"Qui-Gon, we're here to help you," Yet'ilia said gently, placing both her hands on the master's arm.

Qui-Gon roughly pulled his arm away from the healer's touch, the trembling making him seem more menacing than meek. With what little force perception he possessed, he marginally honed his abilities and pushed the two Jedi away from him with a force blast that sent both staggering backwards, "Get out! Just…. Get out."

Yet'ilia nodded and motioned for Master Windu to follow her out the door. When they were in the hall and the door to Qui-Gon's room was shut, the two let out a long, low sorrowful sigh.

"He's not taking this too well," Mace commented.

"Oh, and YOU would if you were told your padawan was killed and left on a planet in the middle of a war and you had no recollection of it happening?" Yet'ilia snapped.

Master Windu frowned at the healer, "Yes, I would be devastated. I have thought of this exact scenario every time I see my padawan. I can sympathize what Qui-Gon is going through."

"I hope you can. I want you to promise me you won't mention anything about Obi-Wan to him while he is recovering."

"What? He needs to talk about it to come to terms with it and be at peace!"

"Maybe, but right now his defenses are very weak and strained. If you press about young Kenobi's fate, it could kill him! He's not strong enough to withstand the emotions and pain right now. He could relapse from the strain and we may not be able to repair it again with the strange anomaly that is hovering over him."

"What do you mean?" Windu regarded the healer with a poignant stare.

Yet'ilia sighed and shook her head, "When he tried to remember what happened, and started to see flashbacks and go into distress, I tried access the force and channel it into him to stabilize him. Something blocked me."

"Something blocked you?" frowned the councilman.

"I tried to trace it to its origin, but all I found were more blocks. Whatever it is, it's powerful. It's protecting and encasing his mind. It may be what's causing the intense reactions. I will run every test I can think of to find out what it is blocking and manipulating his mind, and hopefully find a way to counteract it."

"Could he be the reason behind the block somehow?"

"I really don't know. Usually there is a type of force signature to blocks and scans that other Jedi can sense. I can't sense anything apart from his emotions and health."

"Could a soul healer be able to assist in a way that you can't?" Mace pressed.

"I'm not sure. When he's recovered enough, he can start seeing a soul healer, if he so chooses, but no word of the block or anomaly until this is figured out and he is out of the danger zone."

Master Windu nodded, though hesitantly, "I understand."

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**_"Master! The rebels have attacked the refugee center!" Obi-Wan's voice was broken by the rumbles of the inhabitants' revolt and the static over the link. "They are herding people to the middle of the courtyard for execution!"_**

**_"Obi-Wan, I want you to find a place to hide and stay there. I'm coming to get you! Use the force as a beacon so I can find you!" Qui-Gon called over the link, praying the power cells weren't drained and that Obi-Wan had received the transmission. _**

**_Emotions rushed through the master's mind as he raced down to the street, pulling a thick loden paletot upon his shoulders and securing a hood over his face to hide his identity. Obi-Wan's mental pleas for help ripped through his mind painfully, the sharpness and awareness so intense it nearly sent the tall master crashing to the ground in agony. _**

**_Racing through the crowds of civilians lining the streets, panicking and scattering about in disorder, he weaved an unsteady path through their midst. His steps determined, purposeful, and swift as they easily carried him to his destination. The natives did not notice the concealed Jedi Master blend into their numbers. _**

**_Using the force to hone in on his padawan wasn't going to be an easy task. Terror, fear, resentment, and hatred filled the streets and flooded over the Jedi's senses as he hurried past the center of the feelings, his objective to save his padawan from the tirade of the locals. _**

**_A screaming presence seared in the master's mind riddled with pain, crying out into the abysmal force for aid. Qui-Gon stumbled, his steps faltering as the wave of emotion came hurling to him through the bond he shared with his apprentice. Someone or something was causing Obi-Wan extreme anguish, though the apprentice was trying to quell the suffering and expend it into the force. _**

**_As numerous people passed hurrying to destinations unknown, Qui-Gon fought to keep a constant connection to the force to alert him to his charge. A surge for force emanated from a distance, a sense of fear, heartache, and sorrow roiling along with the tide of force energy, the center of the disturbance unfocused. _**

**_In the back of his mind, the Jedi Master felt his apprentice's consciousness slip away. A small stream of jumbled emotions lapsed through the training bond, their signal diminishing with every passing second. _**

**_The feeling continued as the Jedi Master fought his way through the onslaught of marauding inhabitants, their own surging emotions overshadowing the pure, brilliant nature that ebbed away in the darkness, shrouded in a thick cottony fog, so desperate to be found by its other half. _**

**_Obi-Wan's face suddenly appeared before the master's eyes. His expression soft, sorrowful, helpless. His eyes pleaded for help as a long red gash marked the young Jedi along his cheek. His hand extended, reaching for his master to protect and save him from the terrible fate that consumed the youngster's mind with fear. _**

**_Struggling, Qui-Gon reached out for his apprentice. Their hands nearing, so close to touching. Their finger tips so close. Then disappearing into nothingness. _**

**_Cold, icy hands wrapped around the master's heart as he felt his connection to the force and his precious padawan disperse, their energies leaving no trace of their existence and consuming the Jedi master in their empty wake. _**

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Qui-Gon awoke with a start, his breathing ragged, his mind racing and churning over what little he recollected from his dream. Fleeting images filtered past his vision, distorted and obscure, until finally, swarming together in a flurry of undistinguishable shapes and colors. All understanding and recognition lost within the span of a few seconds of consciousness.

Feeling beads of sweat on his brow, Qui-Gon raised his hand to wipe it away, but frowned as his body refused to obey his command. His arm trembled, his hand felt numb, and his fingers were sprawled out in a wild pattern, then twitched as if playing an instrument. Panting in alarm, he tried to raise himself up in the bed, then winced and called out in pain as his wounds reminded him of their presence and spasms rocked his body.

A strong tremor shot up through the master, his legs, which were still bound in healing bonds, were twitching in every direction. The tremors weren't centered on one body area, having erupted out like hot lava through the master's system and causing his arms to spasm painfully, and his head to jerk in a nervous tick.

Hearing the master's moans from his exertions, Healer Yet'ilia entered the room, carrying a small tray of food, "Good to see you more alert."

Qui-Gon's scowl was the only recognition of the healer's presence. He stared menacingly at her, his eyes more focused as the medication cleared his system.

Yet'ilia placed the tray on a small stand by the master's bed and put her hands on her hips, "You can continue to be childish and wear that face, or you can be an adult about this, and listen to my instructions and follow them to the letter."

Qui-Gon frowned, pursing his lips together and turning his head away from the healer.

Yet'ilia sighed and rolled her eyes, "You are one major pain in my backside, do you know that?"

Ignoring the healer, Qui-Gon tried once again to push himself into a semi-sitting position. Surprisingly, his body obeyed, somewhat, and he was able to sit upwards against his pillows, his body taking a few moments to rejuvenate from its exhausting tasks.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" Yet'ilia nearly shouted. "You shouldn't be moving around, you are still recovering!"

Bright, penetrating blue eyes bore into soft gray ones, their expression quite clear.

Yet'ilia raised a questioning brow, "You can think ill of me all you like, but it doesn't change the fact that I am in charge of your care and responsible for your healing."

As if on cue, to prove the healer's point, a sharp pain ripped through Qui-Gon's chest, causing him to labor for air, gasping through spasms. When the episode receded, he laid against the sheets, sweat beading on his face and deep breaths causing a strange rattle in his lungs.

After a couple of minutes to regain his composure and slow his breathing to normal, Qui-Gon put one shaking leg over the side of the bed and gritted his teeth as he twisted his body around, attempting to stand.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!" Yet'ilia yelled, sitting the tray down and force holding the stubborn master in place as she hurried to his bedside.

"I need to get up," Qui-Gon groaned, whimpering as another jolt of pain shot through him as he fought off the force hold on him by the healer. Panting, he fell back in exhaustion. "I need to get Obi-Wan."

Yet'illia guided the exhausted master down onto the bed, then rose the head of the bed up so that the patient wouldn't strain, "You can go do that when you are well. Right now, you need to eat and regain your strength."

"I'm fine," the obdurate master scowled. His face screwed up in pain, then relaxed into its usual passive expression.

"Oh really?" Yet'ilia crossed her arms in front of her chest and frowned at the patient. "Your injuries nearly killed you. After we stabilized you, you got a nasty infection and had to have extensive treatments to combat its pathogen." Yet'ilia pointed her finger threateningly at Qui-Gon, "THEN had another surgery, slipped into a coma, and had another surgery to stabilize your mental capacities. Oh yeah, you are just fine."

"I don't appreciate your sarcasm in such a delicate situation," Qui-Gon snapped, struggling to pull himself more upright position without causing more pain. His arms trembled with their efforts, the left side shaking more violently and causing his hand to clench and unclench on its own accord.

"Well, I don't appreciate you scaring me half to death," the healer snapped back with a scowl, then softened her expression. "I was so worried when we found you. On the way back home your vitals slipped so low they barely registered."

Qui-Gon icy blue stare bore into the healer, "Yet, you didn't worry for Obi-Wan!"

Yet'ilia looked devastated, her eyes falling to stare at the floor as if ashamed, "I wish I could do something…"

"You could, you just didn't want to!"

"That's not true! I wanted to find Obi-Wan, so did everyone else. But Qui-Gon, the inhabitants were trying to kill us! You told us yourself that Obi-Wan was dead. YOU confirmed it! We couldn't go back to get the body because of all the dangers…"

"Couldn't? You couldn't? What a load of…"

Yet'ilia's face shot up, her eyes darkened and menacing, "I will not be talked to in this way. I swear to you, we did everything we could to find Obi-Wan, to bring him back home. Don't take your anger out on me, channel it out to the force."

Hurtful, pain-filled eyes regarded the healer for a moment, then turned away. A deep baritone voice, cracked with emotion spoke barely loud enough to be heard, "Get out."

"Qui-Gon, you can't turn everyone away that try to offer you help," Yet'ilia sighed, placing her hand on the master's shoulder. "Just, trust in the force."

"The force is NOT my ally right now and I don't want to hear that rhetoric about releasing my feelings into it. I think I'll keep them for right now. Now get out," Qui-Gon snarled, then rolled over to avoid staring at the healer, silencing the cries of agony his body longed to expel, both vocally and emotionally from the movement.

Yet'ilia nodded and walked slowly to the door. She stood in the doorway and turned to stare at the form on the bed, "Just know that everyone mourns for Obi-Wan. Everyone shares your grief. Know that we are here for you, when ever you are ready to express it, we will be here to help you cope."

The words stung at the master's heart, ripping and tearing it into a thousand pieces. Stray thoughts suddenly jumped to life in the master's mind, their images unclear and overlapping, confusing and distorting, twisting and tumbling over one another.

The center of the pictures remained the same. A sad, frightened boy, with spiky ginger hair, cheeky smile, viridian eyes, and a come-back for every known retort in the galaxy. The eyes that are the window to the soul, the harbor of serenity and peace, were focused upon the face of the one that promised to hone and protect, guide and teach, discipline and comfort, and NEVER to abandon.

Feeling a sense of cold dread and isolation well inside of him, Qui-Gon pulled his blankets around his shivering body, desperate for warmth but finding none forthcoming in the icy, empty darkness now surrounding his heart and mind.

The door closed on the soft sobs coming from the weeping Jedi Master curled up in the fetal position, wrapped up in blankets and deep lamentations. The hollowness in his heart, the emptiness in his mind, reduced the master into nothing but a shell.

The quiet and padawan-less environment was more painful than any medical procedure or torture method the master had ever encountered, and yet, a little voice whispered that the worse was yet to come.


	4. Shadow Embraced

Title: **Fallen Embers**

Chapter Four: Shadow Embraced

All disclaimers and information are in the first chapter.

Special thanks to: BlueDragon, Tori Grieves, TamsynDell, Miluielwen, Ilovezac, jf, Charie, and the others who have reviewed thus far. I will be sending you the Jedi of your choice as thanks. :D

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Several days later…

"Any change?" Master Windu asked softly.

Healer Yet'ilia sighed, part in exhaustion, part in exasperation, "No. He hasn't spoken or eaten anything since yesterday afternoon. He just spends the entire time, curled in a ball, staring out the window. I've tried to talk to him, but he ignores me."

"How's his injuries?"

"They are healing to my liking. It's just…" Yet'ilia broke off in a loss for words.

Master Windu frowned and regarded the healer questioningly, "What is it?"

Yet'ilia sighed again, her eyes drifting to the bay window that allowed visual confirmation of the rooms inhabitant, "I've tried to get him to speak to me, but he just lies there, watching the traffic fly past. When I have tried to use the force to access his mind, I am met by a strong mental block that pushes me away and repels any attempt of communication. Then he stares at me, hard. He knows I'm only trying to help, but he glares at me like he will do something rash. I don't like his change in attitude. It's beginning to worry me."

Master Windu nodded, his dark eyes fixed upon the huddle of blankets inside the room. Questions and hopeless answers tumbled over one another, stringing along in a disordered array through the master's mind, trying to comprehend the troubles that seemed to emanate from his childhood friend.

"Is he awake?"

Yet'ila shrugged, "Only one way to find out."

The apprehensive healer opened the door into Master Jinn's room and opened up her force perception to detect the mental state of her patient. Sensing his alertness, she addressed the bundle of blankets that housed the Jedi Master, "Qui-Gon, Mace is here to see how you are doing."

No answer.

Windu scowled, then walked around the bed and sat down in a chair by the bedside, so he could get a better look into his friend's eyes. What he saw made his breath hitch in his throat, his heart stop cold in his chest.

Qui-Gons' once bright cobalt eyes were a misty pale blue that seemed hollowed and devoid of emotion. The dull color gave a sense of spiraling down into a swirling abyss that anyone staring long enough could be swept away in the vacuum of hopelessness now present.

Qui-Gon's face was pale in the dim light, and upon closer inspection, pulled tightly across his features. Every line on his face seemed to be etched deeper, loose strands of gray hair fell along his face and pillow, adding to the sense that the master was older than he really was.

"Qui-Gon? Can you hear me?" Mace asked, leaning closer.

Qui-Gon's expression remained unchanged. His ghostly eyes stared out past the window overlooking Coruscant, his breathing slow, his lids drooping as if exhausted, then fluttering open in a startled expression and welling up with unshed tears that disappeared like apparitions.

"Qui-Gon?" Windu frowned and placed himself directly in front of his friend's vision, blocking his view out the window, "Qui, snap out of it!"

The obstruction didn't seem to register to the downed master. He continued to stare blandly ahead, his eyes cold and distant.

Mace noted the cocoon blankets around his friend and scowled, knowing the room was warm with no drafts or chills, yet his friend was acting as though he were laying naked on Hoth. With a gentle sigh, he placed his hand over Qui-Gon's and almost recoiled from the touch.

Qui-Gon's hand was as pale as his face, with his fingertips tinged in a light blue. The skin was cold and clammy, as though the master just removed his hand from a freezing unit.

Using his free hand, Mace snapped his fingers in front of the drawn face, "Qui-Gon? Qui!"

No answer. Only slow steady breathing, heavy lidded eyes that stared off into nothingness.

Though Windu was a learned, experience Jedi Master, capable of subduing angry delegates; negotiate with terrorists with calmed ease, train young students with patience and confidence, his demeanor faded upon seeing his friend in the withered condition. With the charisma of a high ranked Jedi Master, Mace brought his hand down upon his friend's cheek, giving him a slight sting.

"Master Windu!" Yet'ilia barked, taken aback by the primal action.

The action had its desired effect. Qui-Gon snapped from his unfocused vigil, his eyes glaring menacingly at the councilman. His breathing was noticeably faster; his fists clenched and unclenched his blankets as a kind of turbulent storm brewed within the master's eyes.

Windu squeezed Qui-Gon's hand, raising his voice, "Qui-Gon, you need to snap out of it!"

Yet'ilia scowled as she stepped beside the dark master and spoke gently, "Qui-Gon, you need to eat something. You need to keep your strength."

A bubbling rage could be seen as Qui-Gon rose himself unsteadily up on his pillows, "OUT!"

Yet'ilia made to leave, but Windu drew himself up to his full height and gazed nonchalantly down at the fallen knight, "I have to obey no such orders. **_I_** hold a position higher than you and therefor, deserve your respect! You will not speak to me in that manner!"

Frosted blue eyes narrowed down into slits, his voice was barely over a whisper, "Get out or suffer the consequences."

"I do not take kindly to threats," Windu glared down defiantly. "You are going to do everything Yet'ilia says, and whether you like it or not. You are going to come to grips with your loss and allow the force to guide you."

Shaking all over, Qui-Gon looked his long time friend up and down, then with considerable effort, pulled his arm back and thrust his fist hard into the councilman's stomach.

Windu stumbled backwards, gasping for breath, shocked at Qui-Gon's behavior and the hateful emotions he was clearly projecting. He looked up and locked eyes with him, either not moving or saying a word.

The silence stretched.

"That will be enough!" Yet'ilia shouted, recovering from her momentary shock. "Master Windu, if you have to act like a superior being, you can do it somewhere else. Master Jinn, if you have to act like a street ruffian then you will leave me no choice but to sedate you and place force inhibitors on you."

Qui-Gon's violent eyes remained fixed upon Master Windu's dark ones.

Sensing the situation was at an end; Mace straightened up and walked from the room. Qui-Gon's eyes followed him the entire time, their depths menacing, hateful, and disgusted.

Yet'ilia moved to her patient's side, but a stern look piercing her through told her that she was unwelcome. With a sad smile, she opened up a tendril of force perception to the agitated master. The tendril was blocked so forcibly that Yet'ilia staggered. With a confused look she said, "Qui-Gon, I'm only trying to help you. To heal you. You can't do this to yourself. Don't shut everyone out and wallow in self-pity all the time. It will destroy you."

"Then so be it," came the soft, raspy reply.

Yet'ilia stood transfixed for a few seconds, hardly able to comprehend the meaning of those words. She nodded her head and left the room, closing the door behind her. If the stubborn master was refusing all help, and wanted to destroy his life, there wasn't anything anyone could do, no matter how hard they tried. When Qui-Gon Jinn set his mind to something, he saw it through. No matter who was in the way or the consequences.

Outside of Jinn's room, Master Windu was on his comm, his brow furrowed and his voice soft, "It doesn't sound good."

Healer Yet'ilia stood by the councilman, her mind churning.

"Do you think he will turn?" Mace asked, his voice the most serious Yet'ilia had ever heard.

Yoda's voice answered through the comm, "Know the answer, I do not. But convince to stay with us, we must."

Mace nodded solemnly, "What should we do?"

"Nothing you can do. Be there shortly I will," Yoda said as sounds of movement muffled through the link.

"We will be here waiting," Mace confirmed then terminated the transmission.

With a heavy sigh, the dark master turned to the healer, "He's not going to like this."

"He can't remain this way though. It's not healthy. He's getting weaker," Yet'ilia said, shaking her head.

"Weaker?" Windu frowned, lightly touching the place where Qui-Gon slammed his fist into his stomach, "I beg to differ."

Yet'ilia shook her head, "His strength is waning. It's not good for his condition. There could be lasting effects, though nothing seems to curb his strong mental shields. I tried to gain access again and he projected his shielding with so much force, I was nearly knocked down."

"Does this have anything to do with that anomaly you detected earlier?" Mace asked.

"I think so."

Windu pondered over Yet'ilia's confirmation, his mind turning and examining all information and trying to make sense of everything.

"I understand his loss and pain," Yet'ilia said softly, then turned to stare into the councilman's eyes, "But what I don't understand is…. What is feeding his mental shielding? He is too weak to be able to sustain that kind of shielding, but yet he seems to grow stronger as his body weakens."

"Could it be the dark side?" Mace asked, a lump forming in his throat.

"I wish I could tell. Every attempt to access him through the force is sufficiently blocked. I can't get any readings off of him," Yet'ilia sighed in exasperation. "I'm just thankful he allows the life monitors in there, because without them, I wouldn't be able to check his vitals."

The dark councilman stood in thought for a moment, then asked, "Would it be wise to tell him that a funeral is being planned?"

Yet'ilia's head whipped around so fast, she winced, "No, I do not recommend it. He is vehement that Obi-Wan still lives. If you try to convince him otherwise, I can only guess what it will do to him."

Windu sighed in frustration, his heart worrying over the mental stability of his long time friend. He refused to entertain the thought that Qui-Gon could slip to the dark side. Though if he thought long and hard, he remembered the determination and compassion that the two held for one another and if one was lost or hurt, the other would sacrifice everything to bring the other home.

"When is to be the services?" Yet'ilia asked in a hushed voice.

Windu cast his eyes to the floor, "The council has decided to wait until Qui-Gon is strong enough to attend, then the day will be announced."

"Have you alerted all the Jedi?" Yet'ilia asked.

"Obi-Wan had many friends, all of whom wished to be present at his memorial. Many teams are returning from their missions to attend. Some even postponed all assignments," Windu said with a hint of annoyance.

"They wish to say their good-byes," Yet'ilia said sadly.

"Yes," Windu bowed his head. "We can not fault them for caring. Obi-Wan was very promising, and touched many in his short time."

Yet'ilia sniffled and turned her head away so the councilman couldn't see her despair. She startled slightly when his arms wrapped around her. Without thought to rank and propriety, she buried her face in his robes and cried. After a few minutes they broke apart, both wiping moisture from their eyes.

The lift at the end of the hall signaled a new arrival and with a whoosh, opened up to reveal Yoda. The diminutive master hobbled out of the lift and walked slowly to the two standing beside the bay window that overlooked Qui-Gon's room.

"Cooperating he is not," Yoda remarked with an exasperated harrumph.

"When does he ever cooperate with a healer?" Yet'ilia said with a false smile. She had many battles with the Jedi master, though most of them involved keeping him away from Obi-Wan while the padawan recovered from any number of extensive injuries.

"He has never liked healers," Windu added with a grin of his own. The lame effort to lighten the heavy mood that had fallen over the Jedi caused faint smiles, but there was no twinkle in the eyes, no mirth in the attempts, no happiness in the dismal hall.

"He is not the best patient, that is true," Yet'ilia smirked at last, remembering the last time the master was in the healing ward. "The things he threatens when he tries to get in to see Obi-Wan when he's recovering…"

The words died on Yet'ilia's lips as a blush crept up on her cheeks. Yoda and Mace lowered their heads sadly, well learned as to the lengths the master would go to be at his padawan's side. The thought that Obi-Wan would no longer be in the healing wing and that Qui-Gon would no longer argue, fuss, and threaten everyone to get to his padawan's side, made the three tremble in sadness. It was as if a cold wave was doused upon their heads, chilling them to their very bones.

"See him I shall," Yoda said after a moment's silence.

"Are you sure that is such a good idea at the moment?" Mace asked the green master tentatively. "He is becoming more aggressive."

Yoda regarded his colleague for a minute and sighed, "When in pain, act out they do."

Mace rubbed his midsection, noting the slight tenderness from the punch, "I have never witnessed Qui-Gon react in such a manner. It has me worried, Master."

Yoda bowed his head, "When young he was, did he react so. Not for a long time have I seen such reaction."

"Master, do you think he could be turning?" Yet'ilia asked, her eyes drawn down in worry.

Yoda contemplated for a moment and shook his head, "Turning to the dark side he is not. Consumed by worry and grief he is."

"When I told him he was going to waste away, he said so be it. Master, I can't allow him to give up like this. It will be suicide!" Yet'ilia said with a strain in her voice. "It goes against everything I was taught and practice. If I have to, I will sedate him and put him on support until he has regained sufficient strength."

"Help him that would not," Yoda said gravely. "Learn to face this he must. Pull himself up from this he must."

"Or else be lost?" Yet'ilia snapped.

"Lost he may already be," Yoda sighed heavily. "If fight this he can not, then lose him we already have."

"I can't accept that," Yet'ilia stated firmly.

"Neither can I," Yoda said, then started down the hall to face the trouble ahead.

The door to Qui-Gon's room opened easily and the little green master hobbled his way inside, and levitated himself up on the chair that was poised by the bed.

"Go away," came Qui-Gon's distant voice.

"I will not," Yoda stated flatly. "Come to speak to you I have. Listen you will."

"I have nothing to say or to hear from you," Qui-Gon's voice grew steadier and stronger. He rolled over, his blue eyes vacant, "I wish to be alone."

"Alone you must not be, my dear padawan," Yoda said gently.

"I'm not your padawan anymore," Qui-Gon spat. "I'm not a padawan, not a master…. I'm… I'm nothing anymore."

Yoda heaved a heavy sigh and lowered his eyes, "Think you do that I know not what you feel? Experienced this before I have."

"Not like this you haven't," Qui-Gon's voice dropped to a mere whisper as he stared up to the ceiling.

"Lost a padawan I have," Yoda asserted.

"I didn't lose a padawan," Qui-Gon's voice sounded strained as tears began to creep silently down his cheeks.

"Obi-Wan was not found," Yoda emphasized.

"It does not mean he isn't there," Qui-Gon answered back.

Yoda settled himself down more comfortably on the chair, knowing this was going to take a while. Pulling the force around himself, he let out a slight gasp as he felt the void that shrouded the fallen master lying in the hospital bed. The force seemed to expel from the big master, instead of casting away like a magnetic repellent.

"Doesn't seem fair to live longer than your children… doesn't seem right," Qui-Gon's voice was barely over a whisper, but Yoda heard every syllable.

"A child Obi-Wan was, but of your blood he was not," Yoda said.

Qui-Gon turned his face to Yoda, his jaw set defiantly, "Obi-Wan IS a child. One that has sworn his life to be at my side. To listen and learn from my teachings and be a great knight. Do not speak of him in the past tense, for I know that he still lives!"

Yoda felt a slight ebb in the force, nudging him with a dangerous darkness.

"Obi-Wan may not be of my blood but he is in every way my son," Qui-Gon added, his eyes piercing through the diminutive master.

"Qui-Gon," Yoda started but felt his voice die on his lips as Qui-Gon rolled over, wanting to avoid any more conversation. "Turn away if you must, but confront this you will. Hurt you feel, but heal you will with time. Trust in the force. Your ally it always will be."

"I do not need an ally that forsakes its own," Qui-Gon answered roughly, his voice choked by what Yoda guessed was tears.

Yoda's ears drooped, "Obi-Wan would trust in the force."

Qui-Gon twisted around angrily, ignoring the writhing pain that streaked through his veins, "Do not speak of Obi-Wan! Do not speak of what he would and would not do!"

"Speak to me again like that, and no mercy will be shown," Yoda snapped. His tone was flat but the rebuke was clearly understood. "Far wiser and older am I. Respect I will be shown. Put up with this I will not!"

Qui-Gon's face became stony, "Then leave. No one is making you stay."

Yoda was so shocked he nearly toppled out of the chair, but caught himself and didn't allow Qui-Gon to see his surprise. He glared unblinkingly at his former padawan and sent a small wave of force towards him. With a huge slam, his senses were assaulted by a backlash from the big master.

"Darkness I feel within you. Loss, no hope, struggles of which even I do not fully understand," Yoda said after a moment.

"There is darkness within me, yes," Qui-Gon nodded slightly, his eyes never leaving Yoda's. "The darkness is there because I no longer feel the light upon me. Obi-Wan is in darkness, and there I shall remain as well until he is found."

Yoda withdrew a small data device from his robes and hit the play button on the side. Qui-Gon's voice filled the air, broken harsh, static filled and partially drowned out by booms and scared voices.

"_Obi…. Obi-Wan is dead…. Stay…dead! Request immediate…… Send ship…don't…. Obi-Wan's dead… Force…. Help ..."_

Qui-Gon stared at the device, his ears not wanting to believe what was spoken. He couldn't believe he had spoken those words. He was positive Obi-Wan was still alive, he could _feel_ it in his very being.

"Said the truth you did," Yoda said, breaking the silence.

"I was confused," Qui-Gon started, shaking his head slightly, trying to dislodge the fog that had settled in his numb mind.

"Though broken the message is, truthful it remains."

Qui-Gon felt as if a shroud of gray had fallen over his vision. The world seemed disproportioned and devoid of color.

"Trust in the force. Allow it to guide you, you must," Yoda's voice echoed from far away.

"The force?" Qui-Gon smirked viciously, "The force can fold in on itself and diminish for all I care. I do not want to feel ever again."

"Speaking the despair is," Yoda said gently. "Let go of it you will and feel the force once again."

"Do you not get it?" Qui-Gon snapped angrily. "It is over! When I am able to leave I will. I want nothing to do with the temple, the force, or the Jedi again!"

Yoda stared blankly at his former pupil. He had never witnessed such an outburst, nor felt the emotions rolling off the fallen Jedi with such force they shook him down to the core.

Trying to hide his trembling, Yoda lowered himself from the chair. The force pulsed so vehemently against his senses it made him nauseous. With one last look at the Jedi glaring on the bed, Yoda called, "When time has passed, then speak further on this we will."

With a soft tapping, Yoda disappeared down the hall.

Qui-Gon laid back down painfully, his body aching all over but it didn't match the raw agony he felt inside. He was positive that Obi-Wan still lived; yet hearing the recording of his own voice planted the seed of doubt. His eyes roamed to where Yoda sat, his mind recalling all the feelings and nudges that the force had bombarded him with and thoughts began to creep into his mind. Thoughts that was disturbing and unnerving. Then he remembered Yoda's words, the force touch that was sent to be soothing and felt like he had been touched by something vile and disgusting. He winced as he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling wondering.

_Now what are you to do, Master? Your own teachings have come back to haunt you. Didn't you always teach that in order to know one's self, they had to confront their demons and own their own shadow? Didn't you always teach others how to embrace the darkest part of themselves and learn to ignore and absolve them in time? _

_To know one's self is to know of all the faults and follies, the heartaches and the pain. To welcome the darkness and recognize its existence, then put it away and overcome it with Light._

_But master, what happens when the demons lay in secret, remaining still and quiet, never detected, overlooked and outshined by the Light? Alone and forgotten, growing stronger in their protection of night. And what is one to do, when they no longer want them to remain hidden, but direct every move and emotion? _

_What is left master, when you are overshadowed, by your own shadow?_


	5. Chapter 5: A Light on the Shadow

Title: Fallen Embers 

Chapter 5: A Light on the Shadow

All disclaimers and info is in the first chapter.

AN: First of all, my apologies for forgetting I was uploading this fic. It has been such a long time that I tend to forget all about it. Hopefully I will have this story finished by Christmas, and then I can upload the other fic I had been working on for over two years. Yes, two years. Its sad, but true. Muse left and I have been dragging her back, kicking, screaming, biting, threatening… you get the gist. Needless to say, it's another long story, but hopefully will keep the readers entertained and thinking. BTW, it's a Lord of the Rings fic. This is my last Star Wars. tears up

THANK YOU ALL for your wonderful reviews and encouragement.

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_**Qui-Gon fought through the overflowing of strong emotional pain pelting at him from several individuals, intense and staggering in their degree. His focus at finding his padawan fueled his determination, sorting through the frightened inhabitants without regard, without difficulty. His determination heightened as he turned a corner and struggled through the amassing chaos in the street as more took up arms for the oncoming battle waging around them.**_

_**Fighting the emotional assault was taxing the Jedi master as he wound his way around bodies blocking his path. Desperation started to guide his movements as the onslaught of hurtful emotions enshrouded him, then felt a shudder as a serene, centered presence nearby lit up the force like a brilliant lighthouse amidst the darkened emotions.**_

_**Realizing that only Obi-Wan could be projecting such peace, Qui-Gon headed down a side street towards a large courtyard, with two high buildings, and several smaller ones that cambered sequentially against one another in a series of low hung doorways.**_

_**The two buildings were obviously a major center of commerce and meeting place. The governmental seal adored the decorated arches, accented by columns several stories high.**_

_**As Qui-Gon raced down the street, his eyes fixed upon the buildings growing nearer. He didn't see the bomb that fell on the middle of the grand building. The jarring blast knocked the Jedi to the ground. Shrapnel flew out, pelting bystanders unmercifully and buildings fell to the ground, rocked from their foundations by the blast.**_

_**Qui-Gon's arm shielded his eyes as the debris rained down on top of him. Several large pieces of stone fell on the downed Master, driving him to the ground in a painful heap. A chunk of wall grazed his forehead, temporarily dazing him as his head struck the ground from his disorientation.**_

_**A deep churning in his stomach told him that he had suffered severe injuries from the collapsing building, but the pain that hitched in his chest, overrode his bodies cries.**_

_**As Qui-Gon rose groggily up to his knees, wavering from side to side, his hand held the gash running along his scalp and staining the surrounding area with deep crimson.**_

_**Blood trickled down into his eyes as he surveyed the ruined building now fallen and littering the area with its remains. Rubble tumbled as it shifted in the settling debris some charred and smoking from the explosion. Fires permeated the darkened wreckage, filling the air with a choking smoke that billowed up and coiled around like a whip.**_

_**Broken bodies were scattered about, most of them adusted beyond recognition as the intense heat dried out their bodies, and dismembered them to one degree or another.**_

_**The disaster meant nothing. The lives left broken in the wake were meaningless. Only one thing mattered, a terrible realization to the Jedi Master**._

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"OBI-WAN!" Qui-Gon shouted as he jolted into awareness.

The darkening skyline showed the passage of time. Two days had passed with the Jedi master in various states of consciousness, mostly in a nasty disposition. Yoda, Master Windu, and Yet'ilia had tried to offer their support, but their efforts were rewarded with cold stares and set features. Master Windu had forgiven his friend of his transgression, but the dark master now stayed at a respectable distance when his friend was fully conscious.

At the sudden cry, Mace Windu jumped at his friend's side, and placed a reassuring hand on his arm, "It's alright, Qui-Gon. It's going to be alright."

Qui-Gon gasped, his still injured lungs protesting the harshness of his breathing, "Where is he? Where did he go?"

"Who?" Windu asked softly, his worry escalating.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, slowly shaking his head. "Obi-Wan. I just want to see him for a minute. Ask Yet'ilia if it's safe for him to visit for just a little while."

Windu's deep deploring eyes searched his friend's anguished face, "Qui-Gon, you know that Obi-Wan didn't make it. We never found his body."

Piercing blue eyes flew open to stare resolutely at the council member, memories flowed freely through his mind in a torrent, "I know he's alive! I saw him here! He was with me when I was in bacta treatment!"

"No, he wasn't. Master Yoda and I were the ones that stayed with you when you slipped into a coma and the trauma shut down your systems and they placed you in the bacta. There was only the two of us, beside Yet'ilia."

"I SAW him!" Qui-Gon bellowed loudly, his voice becoming rough and crisp. "He was here!"

Windu shook his head, "The trauma you sustained caused swelling in your brain and neurological dysfunction, all that compounded with the bactas' natural lethargic properties, it's only natural you saw things that weren't really there. But I assure you, Obi-Wan was never there."

"I KNOW I saw him here, standing right behind you, his normal place at my side," Qui-Gon took several deeps breaths, wincing at the lancinating pain shooting through his body.

"I'm sorry. You are mistaken, my friend," Mace said sadly.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes again, slowing his breathing to ease the strain on his lungs.

"Qui-Gon, can you remember anything about what happened on Aphidia?"

Qui-Gon shook his head, weariness creeping into his body and making him feel older than his years, "It's all so confusing. I can only remember in flashes and pieces of pictures."

Mace remained quiet; allowing the mourning master on the bed time to collect his thoughts.

Qui-Gon's eyes blinked benignly as he fought to remember, "I remember telling Obi-Wan to escort some of the leader's family to the hospital, while I protected the remaining members at the palace. He called, saying the rebels were executing people at the hospital."

Master Windu listened quietly as his friend recollected what happened.

A muffled sob choked out of the master's throat as he looked up at his friend, tears welling up in his eyes, "I told him to hide and wait for me. As I was running to meet him, I remember a blinding flash of light, and the next thing I know, I'm laying on the ground, bleeding and disoriented."

"So you saw the building destroyed?" Windu pressed.

Qui-Gon nodded slowly, "Everything is hazy after that. I see images, but they don't make any sense."

"Like what?"

"Flowers. Light," Qui-Gon frowned, the lines on his face becoming more pronounced. "That's all I can remember."

Windu shook his head, "I will inform the council and the Republic leadership."

Qui-Gon's tired face regarded his friend for a moment, "Mace, there's something you're not telling me. What is it?"

Windu sighed, his eyes darting around the room, "I really shouldn't tell you, I was warned by Yet'ilia, and you know how she gets with her patients."

"Yes, I do, now tell me what's on your mind," Qui-Gon glared at the council member with a suspicious look.

Mace Windu was a formable leader, outspoken with the highest-ranking officials, respected all over the galaxy, fearless in the face of adversity, and heroic by many standards. However, right now he cowered at the thought of the news he sheltered from his friend, and the consequences of the healer if she heard him disobeying her rules.

"We received word today from a neighboring planet of Aphidia."

Qui-Gon's eyes widened, and he struggled to sit upright.

"They reported that several factions detonated large scale weapons. The population has been cut by a little more than half."

Qui-Gon sank back into his bed, shock and disbelief on his face, "No. It can't be," he whispered.

"I'm sorry, but our scout sensors show the reports to be true. We have it on good authority that, with the current rate of weapon fire and radiation dispersion, the planet will be unfit for Aphidian life within the next two weeks."

"How?" Qui-Gon's voice was barely an audible whisper. "How?….."

"The ash and debris filling the atmosphere will become so thick, no sunlight or heat will penetrate the dust clouds. The planet will be thrown into an ice age not long after the planet becomes inhospitable for Aphidian life."

Qui-Gon shook his head, his voice cracking and becoming raspy from the tears he fought to control, "I mean, how soon a Jedi team can be assembled for immediate dispatch to the planet?"

"There will be no one dispatched to the planet. It's too dangerous," Windu said a little more sharply than what he intended.

Qui-Gons' face furrowed and reddened, "How could you NOT? Obi-Wan is still there and needing help and if we don't get him soon, he's going to die!"

Windu drew himself up, positioning himself defiantly, "And you know that Obi-Wan is already gone, yet you insist on this arguing and fruitless insistence of him still alive. Whether you like it or not, Qui-Gon, you will have to come to terms with his death."

"I can't, and I won't," Qui-Gon's stubbornness flared up, accepting the battle of wills the council member was projecting.

"You have to. A funeral is being planned," Mace snapped at his friend.

The impact of those simple words was enough to destroy what little resistance Qui-Gon had left. His heart wrenched, tears flowed freely down his cheeks as he stared up in the dark eyes of his long time friend. His voice was cracked, raw, and his breath ragged, "He… can't be gone Mace…. He just… can't. I won't… let him be gone. He's still alive, and… waiting for me."

Windu laid a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder as it shook with grief, "Can you sense him through the training bond?"

Qui-Gon shook his head, "It's because… we're too far apart. That's… that's why it's quiet."

"No, friend, I'm afraid not. He is gone, that's why the bond is quiet. You do no one any good insisting on this crazy notion that he is alive and well. Accept the truth and move on, that's all you can do."

Qui-Gon stiffened, his eyes turning a deep midnight blue, his face set with determination, "It is NOT the truth and I REFUSE to accept it! When I am strong enough, I will go look for him myself, with or without your permission!"

"And when you come back, you will face reprimand for disobeying a direct order, AND, you will be confined to the healer's wing for mental instability!" Mace growled back, his eyes flashing dangerously as his friend dared to challenge his authority.

"IF I come back!" Qui-Gon yelled. His shaking hand shot out, landing directly on the council member's chest, and force pushed the other master backwards, causing him to stumble. "Get out of my room right now, before I do something I may regret," Qui-Gon glared at him.

Windu straightened his clothes and set his jaw firmly, "You've been warned Qui-Gon." With a small bow, he swept from the medical room.

Qui-Gon clenched his fists at his sides, his eyes flowing with tears as he watched his friend leave.

A large 'crack' permeated the air as the glass in the bay window shattered into a million pieces, resembling a collage of multi-fractured diamonds.

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"Master Jinn, you have visitors," a small initiate said with a slight bow.

"I don't feel like having visitors," the gruff voice answered.

"Tough, you're getting them," Master Morra entered the room, excusing the initiate. "We wanted to check up on you."

Padawan Zeller entered the room after his master, his face timid and shy. He wasn't on such good speaking terms as his master, and therefore felt out of place.

Qui-Gon surveyed the two taking seats, "I said I don't want visitors."

"And I said tough," Morra grinned. "I wanted to give you an update. Half the temple thinks you will force-explode being cooped up in here and the other half, are betting that you will strangle the healers."

Qui-Gon didn't smile at his friend's joke. He stared hard, his face set and drawn. After a minute of silence, he spoke quietly, but plainly, "Get the hell out of my room and leave me alone."

Master Morra frowned, then shook his head, "If you want me out, you're going to have to throw me out by your own hand."

Qui-Gon rose up on the bed, his whole body trembling with his exertion. His hand tried to yank away his blankets to allow him to stand up, but his hand shook and fumbled with the material, eventually falling and writhing uncontrollably on top of the bed.

Deep heart wrenching cries strangled out of the master's throat as he fell against the bed, his tears soaking into the material.

Master Morra and Padawan Zeller were at the collapsed master's side, soothing and reassuring him through his sobs and anguished pleas that he should have remained at his padawan's side. Morra leaned over, placing a hand on his friend's arm, his own sorrow magnified by his friend projecting so much grief.

The pain was too much to bear.

Padawan Zeller stood by the distraught master, his head barely above the bed, his eyes level with the contrite master. He reached out, lightly touching the master's temple, and sending direct force comfort into the grieving mind.

A soft, gentle touch extended into Qui-Gon's mind, caressing his raw senses and empty training bond, soothing and surrounding the mind with force healing. The presence was easy and caring, tentatively accessing the fresh wave of turbulent emotions and pain racing through his mind. The force folded and enshrouded the master as Padawan Zeller manipulated it to his command, using its gentle reassurances to help ease the master's suffering.

Qui-Gon felt the intrusion from the padawan, but didn't flinch at the touch; instead, he drawled more on the feeling, trying to drown all his sorrow in the comfort swirling around him. He gasped through his sobs, raising his red rimmed eyes to see Padawan Zeller smiling at him in the same way Obi-Wan would when he realized his master was susceptible to the same human frailties.

Qui-Gon's breath rasped out, his chest spasming from his wretched crying, his deep blue eyes fixed with a confused expression at the padawan standing at his bedside.

Morra wiped his eyes, the fur on his face flushed a vibrant orange and clinging to his skin from all his shed tears, "You know we are all here for you, Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon raised his shaking hand to his face, attempting to wipe his face free of tears. His hand trembled hard, and maneuvered on its own, no matter what the master commanded his nerves to do. The end result was, instead of wiping off the tears with a couple of fingers, the master had to settle for wiping his face on the back of his shaking wrist.

"How…. D... did you d…d…do that?" Qui-Gon asked Zeller harshly, his throat raw and agitated.

"My species are exceptional telepaths, even without the force. I can sense someone and soothe their minds without accessing the force, but my training allows me to be subtle and focus the force into another mind to compensate for what they need," Zeller answered.

Master Jinn trembled slightly, "You are a compliment to your master." His rueful eyes swept over to Master Morra.

Morra nodded quietly.

Zeller looked between masters, not quite getting the silent exchange going on.

"Zeller is the one that found you in all that death and destruction," Morra said after a minute of silence.

"Thank you," Qui-Gon choked out, his breath still heavy from his crying. "But how did you find me through all that?"

"He sensed your life force a block away," Morra grinned at his padawan. "He pointed out the alleyway you were buried in, and kept you stabilized while we dug you out."

"You pinpointed my location that accurately?" Qui-Gon's amazement replaced his sorrow.

"Yes," Zeller answered.

"You make your master proud," Qui-Gon said, then added with a smile, "Obi-Wan makes me proud everyday, though I do not believe I tell him as often as I should. I shall have to rectify that mistake when the time comes."

Morra sighed and gave Qui-Gon a sympathetic look, "You know as I do that there will be no chance to fix your mistake."

Qui-Gon's face distorted painfully, his eyes screwed shut, "There will be. There has to be. I will not let him slip into darkness. I will not abandon him, nor allow him to suffer alone."

"There was nothing that you could do. Obi-Wan knew that his path could lead to such things," Morra said with a choked voice.

"It is all so confusing," Qui-Gon sighed, closing his eyes tightly and trying to recall the images. "I see so many things, all flashing at once. I can't remember anything after I saw the building falling towards me. But I feel that there is something that I am missing."

"Obi-Wan," Zeller said softly. "You are missing Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon opened his eyes and gave Zeller an imploring look, "Yes, I miss him, but I feel there is much more that I am missing. I cannot find closure in the chaos of my mind and memories. I will go to the planet as soon as I am well, whether the council agrees or not. Obi-Wan's fate shall be my own, for I will not continue with so much grief and burdens."

Morra seemed to huff and gave Qui-Gon a searching look. After a moment of quiet contemplation, he leaned forward, his face a few inches from Qui-Gon's and spoke softly so no one but the downed master could hear, "I have spoken with Mace and Yoda, both believe you are bordering on the Dark Side," Morra put his hand over Qui-Gon's mouth when he opened it to protest, "Shut up and listen, old friend. I believe that you are close to losing yourself from grief, but I promise to you, that if you can give me just reasons, I will personally escort you back to Aphidia and look for Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon's eyes widened in disbelief, "The council will expel you for doing such a thing. I cannot and will not ask you to do this, Morra. This is my journey, and mine alone."

Morra straightened and waved a dismissive hand, "I can worry about the council at another time. You forget, old friend that they have had to deal with me on many occasions. You are not the only one that likes to question the Force and the council's orders."

Qui-Gon stared disbelievingly at his long time friend and slowly nodded his consent, "Very well. If I can not stop you."

Morra snorted, tufts of his golden fur around his mouth twitched with a grin, "Besides, if we get caught, I can say that you made me. After all, you 'are' older than I, and should know better than to corrupt such an innocent soul, especially when there is a young padawan involved."

Qui-Gon sputtered, his mirth causing his body to tense with pain. He haphazardly wiped his eyes and smiled, "Who is the one that corrupts? I think you have your story a bit mixed up."

Morra looked thoughtful for a moment and shook his head slowly, "No, I do think that you are the one that the council warned me against. They said that, how did they put it? 'Qui-Gon is a bad influence, do not pick up his habits.' Or something to that effect."

"They did no such thing!" Qui-Gon said while trying to hide a smile.

"Oh yes, but they did not use so many words," Morra put in with a wink. "Now, be a good master and get some sleep. You will need all your strength for what lies ahead."

"And that is?" Qui-Gon asked, lowering himself snugly in his blankets and allowing his eyes to droop.

"Later," Morra said, motioning for Zeller to exit. "If you are strong enough tomorrow, Zeller will see what he can in your mind. Rest well, for you will need it when he explores your mind."

Qui-Gon nodded, his brow furrowed. He watched Morra bow and depart, a sinking feeling filling his senses as he wondered what it would feel like when Zeller accesses his mind. Dreams of pain and dread filled the master's head during the night, each one progressively more realistic and devastating than the last. As dawn blossomed on the horizon, the sun greeted a strained master sitting against a mountain of pillows, his face etched in grief and apprehension for the coming day.

After a dismal breakfast, which made Qui-Gon nauseous by looking at it, Morra sauntered in, all smiles and jovial manner. Padawan Zeller timidly followed and seated himself on the chair in the corner, allowing his master the chair by the bed that held a very irritable master.

"Good morning, Qui-Gon!" Morra beamed, settling himself in the chair and giving his friend an award-winning smile.

"Says who?" Qui-Gon grumped, giving the fellow master a very sarcastic look.

Morra snickered, "Still a morning person I see. Good, it's good to see your keeping your grouchy attitude so no one will become suspicious."

Qui-Gon gave his friend a soured expression as he attempted to pull himself into a sitting position. His body still rebuked, trembling and threatening to withdraw its support at any moment. Morra frowned and caught Qui-Gon by the arm, hoisting the other master up into a better sitting position against his pillows.

"Feeling any stronger?" Morra asked when he relaxed into his chair once again.

Qui-Gon panted from the exertion and gave Morra an annoyed looked and scoffed, "I do not see how I ever enjoyed the food given to patients. The only way I will regain strength is if I am allowed to leave and find food suitable for human consumption."

Morra smiled brilliantly, "That's the spirit! I knew you would not be melancholy for long."

Qui-Gon's face grew gray once again. The light twinkled behind his eyes dimmed noticeable as he sighed and cast his eyes down, staring at his hands which trembled slightly from exertion.

"This should cheer you up," Morra said, pulling an assortment of small plastoid containers from his robes, "Just don't tell when you got them, or else I may find myself on the end of another needle." Morra shuttered and handed the containers to Qui-Gon who took them with a suspicious smile.

"What have you brought?" Qui-Gon asked, not sure if he should open one of the containers up.

"It's food, you suspicious sith!" Morra said with a roll of his eyes. "I know the food the healers bring is horrible, so I thought I'd pilfer something from the kitchens."

"You stole it?" Qui-Gon asked as he opened a container and found his favorite fruit.

"I think of it as," Morra frowned, pretending to concentrate hard on the right words, "Borrowing it without their permission and giving it to someone who would really enjoy it. Basically, yes, I stole it."

Qui-Gon laughed and took a bite of the fruit. He wanted to groan when the full flavor hit his taste buds. Sour fruit was always a weakness for the tall master, besides pastries. When Qui-Gon finished the container, he opened another one to find some stewed meat, mixed with a variety of vegetables. Qui-Gon grinned when Morra automatically handed him a spoon he had tucked away in one of the many pockets that lined his robes.

The stew was finished off quickly and Qui-Gon leaned against his pillows, filling rather full and quite content. He sighed, feeling the force ebb and touch at his mind, though not fully engaging it as was normal. Though the feeling left behind a kind of emptiness, Qui-Gon was glad for its absence, enjoying the feeling of solitude.

After a few minutes had passed, Morra's voice sounded distantly to Qui-Gon's ears, "Are you ready?"

Qui-Gon raised his head to find Morra leaning forward in his chair, elbows propped up on his knees and an expectant face. "Ready?"

Morra sighed in exasperation, "For Zeller to try to look into your mind." Morra shook his head and breathed, "The brains of a gundark, I swear!"

Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes, preparing for a tirade at his friend, but Padawan Zeller had approached and looked at Qui-Gon apprehensively. Qui-Gon closed his mouth and sighed, looking into the pale blue eyes of the learner and said, "If you do not wish to do this, I will not force you. I won't harbor any ill feelings if you do not wish to inflict such things upon yourself."

"It is not me of whom I worry," Zeller said, his honeyed color skin flushing to a beige. "I do not know if this is a good idea. There may be things that you do not wish for others to see, nor others to know. Sometimes, the pictures are random, even for someone who is in full health. I do not know if you are strong enough to control your thoughts and guide me to the information you seek."

Qui-Gon felt stunned the young initiate had spoken so freely. A helplessness settled in his mind, his heart constricting with fear that perhaps the padawan was right. But if he did not even try, then how was he to ever know the truth, or find the answers that eluded him thus far?

Pushing all misgivings aside, Qui-Gon nodded his ascent, "If you do not try, then we may never know the full truth. I ask you to try your best, but do not press if you are unable."

Zeller nodded, "I understand."

"And one more thing," Qui-Gon pressed. When Zeller nodded for him to continue, he said softly, "I ask you to never repeat what you see or experience from my mind. There are many things that haunt my heart, and I do not wish for others to know the burden I carry."

Zeller bowed his head, "Thoughts and visions stay between us. No other will know of what transpires, of that you have my word."

"Thank you," Qui-Gon said.

"Ready?" Zeller asked. Qui-Gon nodded affirmative and Zeller took a deep breath, clearing his mind and reached a tentative hand towards the master's temple. "Just relax, and do not fight me."

Qui-Gon felt Zeller touch his left temple as he closed his eyes. At first, Qui-Gon felt nothing except the rough pads of the padawan's fingers pressing against his temple. He sighed, trying to relax further but was met with a surge of pain. He flinched, his body shaking in spasms as the nerves were bombarded with force energy now being directed into his mind. Qui-Gon flinched, feeling as if his head had split open and cold air rushed across his exposed brain.

Zeller frowned, then winced as he directed the binding energy more forcefully. Gritting his teeth, he broke through the first mental shielding of the master and felt several more take its place. He focused his entire energy forward, pressing and nudging, maneuvering and manipulating, looking for a weakness to allow him passage into Qui-Gon's mind.

Qui-Gon for his part was trying desperately to relax enough to allow the padawan entrance into his thoughts, but he felt sharp stabs of heated electricity surge through his mind, the force fluxing with the power struggle. He tensed, gripping the blankets tightly in his hands and causing his knuckles to turn ghostly white.

Morra noticed the struggle between his padawan and friend and placed his hand on Zeller's shoulder and spoke in his ear, "This is too much. Retreat and try again later."

Padawan Zeller was so focused on navigating himself though layers of mental shielding; his master's words went unheard. When Morra squeezed his shoulder and tried to use the force to access the training bond the pair shared. With the force push from his own master's mind, Zeller found the niche he was searching for and slipped into Qui-Gon's mind.

Qui-Gon gasped and released his hold on the blankets, his body relaxing against the pillows and molding to the form of the bed. Zeller's fingers remained in place at the master's temple.

Usually, a connection to another Jedi was tenuous at best, unless it was a training bond established between master and apprentice. Qui-Gon never liked another to enter his mind, feeling violated and vulnerable. However, instead of feeling the chilling presence of another in his subconscious, Qui-Gon felt a gentle warmth in his mind, not unlike the feeling that occurred when he communicated telepathically with Obi-Wan. Finding the intruder so gentle and warm, Qui-Gon relaxed further, allowing all his mental defenses to drop.

A whimper escaped Zeller's mouth as the master's mind became opened. He involuntarily jerked, feeling the raw emotion and empty training bond that should have been strong and surging with energy. Now it laid weak, distant, and bone-chilling cold. Zeller gasped when Qui-Gon's subconscious latched onto him, drawing him closer and clinging desperately to his warm presence.

Zeller's mental voice floated through Qui-Gon's deprived mind, 'Relax, master Jinn. Allow me to steer your thoughts. Take me to Aphidia. Show me what happened.'

Qui-Gon gasped, arching off the bed slightly as his mind went back in time, flashing in a blur, taking Zeller back in his memories. Zeller exhaled sharply, as if punched hard in the stomach. He doubled over slightly, but didn't break contact with Qui-Gon.

Imagines of Obi-Wan and several of the Aphidian people, royals by the way they were garbed, flashed briefly in Zeller's mind. A myriad of colors bombarded the mental pictures, quickly morphing into bombs, buildings, flowers, and death. Zeller watched as the pictures came and went, faster than the blink of an eye. He tried to focus on one image, but before he could gather enough force energy, the image was gone, replaced by another more disturbing.

Echoes of the scared and dying slammed into the padawan's mind. The impression they left on Qui-Gon's mind was strong, their endless screams of pain and fear still ringing clearly in his subconscious. Zeller's knees buckled from the onslaught he witnessed in Qui-Gon's mind. With a jolt, he broke contact, landing hard on the cold surface of the med-bay floor.

Qui-Gon's eyes flew open and he stared wildly around, gasping for breath. His body jerked painfully, refusing to listen to his command to cease.

Morra was at his padawan's side in a heartbeat, cradling the youth against him and murmuring words of comfort as the padawan shook with sorrow. Zeller's sobs were muffled by Morra's robes as the youth clutched frantically at his master.

Morra looked to the bed and noticed his friend regaining some composure from his spasming body. "Qui-Gon, are you all right?"

Qui-Gon placed a shaky arm over his eyes and said breathlessly, "Yes. Yes, I am fine. How is your padawan?"

"He grieves," Morra said, lightly brushing his hands through his padawan's hair and sending soothing waves of force energy through their bond. "The emotions were too much for him to handle. It will take some time for him to regain his senses."

Qui-Gon nodded his head and panted, "I am sorry, padawan. I did not mean to overwhelm you."

Zeller withdrew slightly from his master's embrace and spoke with a strained voice, "It was not your fault, Master Jinn. I am sorry that I broke contact so abruptly."

Qui-Gon removed his arm and looked over to the padawan nestled in his best friend's lap, "There is nothing to apologize for. I am the one who should be sorry. You should not have witnessed such things."

Zeller's eyes drooped slightly as he nodded and leaned against his master for support, "I have witnessed many horrible things in my lifetime. I expect there will be many more in the future."

Morra hugged his drowsy padawan to him and rose gracefully from the floor where he coddled the youth, "That is enough today. Some rest and meditation are ordered for both of you."

Zeller nodded against his master and then turned to Qui-Gon, "If you are feeling better tomorrow, perhaps we may try again?"

Qui-Gon lowered himself into a laying position and nodded sleepily, "If you so wish."

"You both may try again if you get plenty of rest and are strong enough," Morra said, then as an afterthought, called over to the form huddled up on the bed, "And you will not attempt it again unless you eat your dinner."

Qui-Gon's voice was muffled by the blankets he drew up around his face, "Yes, Master. Good night."

Morra snickered and looked out over the Coruscant skyline from Qui-Gon's window. The sun was only partially in the sky. With a grin the Korrdian master escorted his sleepy padawan to their quarters to allow the youth some much needed rest. The duo passed Healer Yet'ilia on their way to the lift.

Morra smiled politely and bowed his head, "Good day to you, Healer Yet'ilia."

Yet'ilia narrowed her eyes and gave the master a suspicious look, "Why are you so formal today? And what is wrong with your apprentice?"

Morra looked down to see his apprentice sagged against him, deep in sleep. "We had a hard training lesson this morning. He is very tired."

Morra scooped his padawan up in his arms and heard the healer snort and storm down the hall, mumbling about abusive masters and their poor, exhausted apprentices. Morra smiled until he heard a loud shout from Jinn's room.

"Where did all this food come from?!"

The lift doors opened and Morra quickly entered and turned just in time to see healer Yet'ilia stalking towards him, her eyes narrowed, fists clutching food containers, and growls preceding her down the hall.

"Qui-Gon made me do it!" Morra beamed in a most innocently fashion and called just as the doors closed, whooshing him away from the seething healer.


	6. Chapter 6

Title: **Fallen Embers**

Chapter Six: Plight of Ashes

All disclaimers and info is in the first chapter.

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Qui-Gon slept soundly for the rest of the day and only woke up long enough to eat a few bites of the dinner tray that Yet'ilia had brought. After a few bites, many colorful phrases, Qui-Gon refused to eat anymore, but asked for the rest of the contraband that Morra and secreted to him. Yet'ilia had ranted for nearly an hour about healthy eating and the improper actions of masters, when she noticed her audience was sound asleep once again. Mumbling curses under her breath, she left the slumbering master to his dreams and made a note to frisk the next visitor to Jinn's room.

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"**_Master? The rebels are attacking! I've been marked for death!" Obi-Wan spoke into his comlink, hoping that his master received the distorted message. _**

_**Qui-Gon fought to hear over the roar of weapons and screaming denizens, noting the panic in his apprentice's voice through the static that blasted through the small device. Focusing in on the bright beacon calling in the distant that could only be his apprentice; Qui-Gon Jinn pushed and shoved his way through the chirring and frightened crowd.**_

_**After struggling for what seemed an eternity, the large master was relieved of the bustling crowd and ventured into an alleyway, weaving and dodging the fallen debris. The force pulsing in his veins faster than what blood could ever achieve. The energy surged the master forward, driving him to his destination and keeping him in touch with the other half of the training bond. Panic swelled in the master's mind, but he quelled it easily, sending reassurance towards the one person in his life he would sacrifice everything. As the master hurried forward, something caused his step to falter.**_

_**The link was breaking. The force was pulling away and the light was dimming.**_

"_**Force, no!" Qui-Gon breathed, making haste.**_

_**The rocket that struck the building nearby went unnoticed by the struggling master, but it's debris rained down effectively. Several large clasts of duracreet flew, peppering the ground and master relentlessly, beating down all beneath their rage.**_

_**Qui-Gon fell to his knees, reeling in dizziness and pain. Blood poured freely through his fingers where he clutched the side of his head, wincing from the intense throbbing. He opened his eyes, blinking through the blood and swimming vision and rose unsteadily to his feet.**_

_**The building, now hulled out and its supports strained, gave way, collapsing sideways and encasing the Jedi master in its stony tomb. The world shuttered violently as the tons of building came crashing down, effectively shielding the master away from his apprentice.**_

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Qui-Gon awoke with a start. The morning sun was peeking around a nearby skyscraper, casting a long, dark shadow over the Jedi Temple. With a groan, Qui-Gon stretched, feeling several joints pop. He relaxed, taking several deep breaths and enjoying the morning.

Healer Yet'ilia entered the room, huffing and mumbling under her breath. She sat down a tray and glared at Qui-Gon, "Eat everything or I will not allow any more visitors!"

Qui-Gon scowled and rose, gingerly positioning himself upright to eat. He removed the lid and scrunched his nose, taking in the thick, gooey substance and the breakfast fruit, which he always detested.

"I'm not eating this!"

"Yes, you will," Yet'ilia put her hands on her hips. "You need the vitamins and antibodies. It's either eat it, or I give you a shot!"

"I'll take the shot," Qui-Gon sneered and replaced the lid. "Do you wish to give it to me now or wait until later?"

Yet'ilia seemed on the verge of anger and amusement. After a moment she sighed, "Very well, if you will not eat, then I shall be forced to take actions."

Qui-Gon folded his arms across his chest and gave Yet'ilia a quirked brow, "If I have to eat, I suggest something that is actually _edible_. I would not feed that horrible stuff to a sith lord!"

"Very well," Yet'ilia said softly, removing the tray from the bedside stand. "I shall return shortly with your '_medicine.'_"

Usually such threats cause Qui-Gon to grimace and think twice, but he rationalized there was no possible way he could eat the gruel and survive. The mere thought of the stuff getting near him made his stomach churn.

Yet'ilia returned a couple of minutes later, sporting a rather wicked looking needle. With a superior look she grinned, "You know the procedure."

"I would say we should rethink such a procedure but it would do no good," Qui-Gon sighed and rolled on his side.

Yet'ilia smirked as she exposed the master's backside and stabbed it with the needle, "If you are able, you have visitors that wish to see you."

A muffled growl answered.

"I take that as a yes," Yet'ilia smiled as she withdrew the needle and placed it in a disposable bin. "I will show them in shortly."

Qui-Gon moaned as he rolled onto his backside, the tender skin smarting at the slightest touch. He frowned and pulled himself up, straightening his posture. It was then that he noticed his cooperating body. He held out both of his arms, paddling them up and down, then flexing them back and forth. Grinning he extended his legs, and after some shakiness and dull ache, was able to flex and bend them. As Qui-Gon registered the pain and mobility in his legs, he missed the two Jedi entering his room.

"Did we interrupt your workout?" Morra asked with a grin.

Qui-Gon smiled at his friend, "I have better mobility and the tremors are nearly gone."

"That's good," Morra said, sitting down into the chair beside the bed. "I have come to tell you that Master Windu will be unable to visit. He asked me to tell you how sorry he was for not stopping by, but there are important matters for him to attend to at the moment."

Qui-Gon glanced at his friend to agree, but was distracted by his friend's attire. Jedi almost always wore their long robes, whether it be on missions or simply during down time between missions. It was rare one was seen in only their tunics. Morra was dressed in a beige tunic with black pants, but no robes.

"Morra, where are your robes?" Qui-Gon asked with a frown.

Morra made an enraged face, "That draigon of a healer took it!"

Qui-Gon gave his friend a shocked look and Morra elaborated, "I guess she figured out how I smuggled in food. As soon as I showed up, she nearly _ripped_ it off of me and told me to not bring you anything else because she had you on a special diet."

"Diet?" Qui-Gon scowled.

"Yes," Morra sighed, dropping his head back against the chair, "She said you needed food that was rich in proteins and had the nutrients you needed to recover."

"She already tried to inflict her idea of food on me," Qui-Gon said through chuckles. "I opted for the shot instead of the food."

Morra's head snapped up, "Shot? The food must be worse than I thought!"

Qui-Gon laughed heartily, knowing his friend's dislike of needles. Of all the things in the universe to be frightened of, the one thing that brought the large Korrdian master quailing to his knees, was a thin piece of metal.

"But I have once again saved you from starvation," Morra snickered.

Qui-Gon looked at his friend and eyed his clothing, wondering what the other master was talking about. Morra grinned and motioned to padawan Zeller, whose grin matched his master's and he opened his robes to reveal pockets that were undoubtedly housing an assortment of food.

Qui-Gon laughed and motioned the youth forward and helped Morra empty the many pockets. When Zeller was picked clean, he seated himself beside his master and watched as Qui-Gon giddily unwrapped a pastry.

"Now this," Qui-Gon held up the pastry that was covered in thick icing, "Is what I call food."

Qui-Gon took a bite of the pastry and closed his eyes, moaning in appreciation. The dessert didn't last long, and soon the master was opening several containers and enjoying a breakfast of fruit and exotic bread with glazed nuts. Between bites he asked, "How do you feel padawan Zeller?"

"I am fine, Master Jinn," Zeller answered through a smile watching the master inhale his breakfast.

Qui-Gon swallowed the last bit of his breakfast, his face somber, "If you do not wish to try again, then I understand."

Zeller waved a hand dismissively, "My master helped me to send my anguish into the force. If I can, I will help you do the same."

"I do not want to lose my pain," Qui-Gon said. "I only want to heal it and there is only one way that will happen. Remember what happened on Aphidia so I may rescue Obi-Wan."

Zeller nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but a voice from the door stopped all further conversations, "What in the name of the force is going on here?!"

Healer Yet'ilia was standing in the doorway, her face screwed up in anger and her foot tapping impatiently, "I have tried to explain the situation. Obi-Wan is gone, and though you may protest, you must learn to come to grips with that."

Qui-Gon flinched at the name and felt a stirring of anger at the healer's words, "You cross the line, Yet'ilia."

"I have had enough of this," Yet'ilia stormed into the room and gave Qui-Gon a quelling look. "If you choose to continue on this, then I forbid you to attend the funeral."

"Funeral?" Qui-Gon looked sharply to Morra. "What funeral?"

"Mace already told you," Morra said sadly. "Obi-Wan's funeral is scheduled for tomorrow." He looked over Yet'ilia's shoulder when she turned to face Qui-Gon and mouthed silently, _'Play along.'_

The message was received, loud and clear. Qui-Gon lowered his head and sighed, "Yes, I remember him speaking of it."

Yet'ilia looked over her shoulder at the Korrdian master, giving him a suspicious look, but returned her attention back to the master sitting on the bed, "I will not allow you to go if you continue this. You may not want to accept it, but there are others that have, and they need to grieve in peace. If you can not face it, then allow those of us that can, the opportunity to do so."

Qui-Gon felt tears well up in his eyes, thinking about all the Jedi funerals he had attended. With a meek voice he asked, "Where will the service be held?"

Yet'ilia's gaze softened, "They will be held in the Hall of Remembrance at two."

Qui-Gon shook his head, "I know many that reside there."

Yet'ilia was at a loss of words. No words or expression of comfort seemed befitting to the Jedi master who had seemed to finally come to his senses and accept his padawan's death. Yet'ilia tried once again to touch the master's mind, but met with strong resistance, mental shielding and the force anomaly that still remained firmly in place. She sighed in frustration, then her attention fell to the many empty containers that lined Qui-Gon's bed and the icing that circled the master's mouth.

"Qui-Gon Jinn, where did you get those?"

Qui-Gon tried to unsuccessfully hide one of the containers in his large hands but Yet'ilia was on to him and tried to pry it from his grip, "I need only a small piece. Just a small bit of something sweet."

"Nonsense," Yet'ilia argued, trying her best to wrench the container away from Qui-Gon. The smell of Atlander chocolate assailed her nostrils and she doubled her efforts, "Do you know the harmful things that can happen to you if you do not follow a strict diet? You are still weak and need to eat proper food, or your recovery will be long and difficult."

Qui-Gon winced as the healer's small hand twisted his forefinger away from the container, "If I have to eat that disgusting stuff you claim is food, I'd rather starve to death!"

"Honestly!" Yet'ilia exclaimed as she prized away another finger, "To hear you speak of it, it as if I am feeding you bantha fodder! Obi-Wan never protested this much…" she broke off at the mention of Obi-Wan's name and felt Qui-Gon tense, then release his hold. Yet'ilia put the container in her pocket, her face mournful, "I am sorry, Qui-Gon. I did not mean to distress you."

Qui-Gon nodded and watched as the healer confiscated all the food containers, mumbling about the many that were empty. He watched her fuss about, then before she left, she stood over the Korrdian master, who even while sitting, dwarfed her.

"Master Morra, I do not know how you managed to smuggle this in, but let me assure you, on your next visit, I will personally search your person!" Yet'ilia roared and left the room, her robes billowing behind her in a raging storm.

Morra gulped and pointed to Qui-Gon and yelled after the healer, "It was Qui-Gon's fault!"

"Mine?" Qui-Gon asked. "You traitor!"

Morra regarded his friend for a moment and grinned, "Everyone already knows of your reputation, so it will come as no shock. I however, have been a perfectly abiding master that they see as a bit overzealous in merry-making."

"If only they knew," Qui-Gon smarted. "I have a feeling if they knew the whole story, then I would be held in better favor."

Morra huffed, pretending to be offended, but his eyes twinkled with mirth. After a minute of silence, he rose from his chair and checked the doorway, making sure no healer was around to eavesdrop. He closed the door and pushed a chair against it, then turned to his friend.

"Are you sure you are ready to do this?"

Qui-Gon nodded and pulled himself up, nodding his head, "I am certain as long as Padawan Zeller is willing."

Zeller nodded his head and seated himself in his master's abandoned chair.

Qui-Gon looked to Morra, his face drawn and serious, "You will guard us?"

Morra answered his friend by planting himself in the chair in front of the door, "Yet'ilia will not gain access to this room no matter how hard her tiny body tries. If the need arises, I will simply lie."

"You would lie?" Qui-Gon asked with an amused expression.

"Why not?" Morra answered with a shrug. "I've already stolen for you."

"I never asked you to do such a thing," Qui-Gon said, then narrowed his eyes in mock seriousness, "Is there anything you would not do?"

Morra thought for a moment and nodded, "Yes, I will never wear another dress!"

Zeller turned quickly to give his master an astonished look but Morra would not meet his gaze. "Master?"

Morra tore his gaze away from a laughing Qui-Gon and regarded his apprentice for a moment. Realizing that he said too much, he shrugged, "It's a long story that happened a very long time ago."

"I'll tell you all about it," Qui-Gon said through chuckles. "Now, Padawan, if you don't mind, I don't know how much time we have."

Zeller nodded obediently and reached out a hand to the master's temple, closing his eyes and channeling the force. Expecting the master's mental shielding to be as strong as it was the previous day, Zeller focused on the defensive barriers. When the padawan first touched the force shielding, he met a surprise.

Qui-Gon immediately relaxed, allowing the padawan to easily slip into his conscious mind. The padawan's mental touch was soothing, dulling the raw ache that had been present since the master's return. Exhaling long and slow, Qui-Gon eased down into a tranquil state, allowing the padawan to navigate and choose the destination. The padawan's intrusion was warm and welcoming, calming to the tortured mind that desperately called out to its missing half.

Zeller winced as the emotions and memories of Aphidia surfaced, assaulting his senses and dragging him down into a deepening abyss. Pain seared the padawan's mind as he fought to control the stem of images. He struggled to steer the thoughts into a more sensible collage, fighting the erratic sensations and trying to bring light to the darkened images that flooded freely.

Zeller flinched as several images flashed, then disappeared into a thick blanket of fog and pain. The images withdrew sharply, their irregular form brutally assaulting the padawan as his inner eye tried to discern the pictures and put order to the chaos that swirled. Brilliant flashes of light bombarded the padawan's senses as he tried to see through the veil that clouded part of the master's mind.

Zeller shuttered, gasping and trembling in his chair as he fought the chasm of darkness within the Qui-Gon's mind. He concentrated harder, trying to cast any light on the blank void that glimpsed to the master's forgotten past.

Morra was at his padawan's side in an instant, watching the youngsters face for any sign of danger or problems. He trusted his padawan's abilities, but sometimes, when the darkness in a mind was too much, Zeller took a long time to recover from the experience.

Morra's attention was drawn from his padawan's face from a voice on the opposite side of the door, "Qui-Gon, what is going on in there?"

Morra immediately erected a force shield, chastising himself for not thinking of it, "Please healer, just a moment of peace."

"Peace?" Yet'ilia's voice faltered.

Morra let out a choked sob, muffling it by his fist, "If you do not mind, allow Qui-Gon some time to grieve in peace."

"Yes," Yet'ilia's voice answered, though hinted with sadness. "Yes, this is good. Remain with him until he calms down. If there is anything you require, don't hesitate to let me know."

"I will," Morra said, then pretended to muffle a whimper. "Thank you, Yet'ilia."

Morra sensed the healer leave them to their private time, her force signature dimming down the hall. Making sure to keep the force bubble around the room, Morra concentrated hard, glancing over at his padawan and best friend, both of whom were trembling visibly. Morra took a step towards his padawan, his face drawing in concern at the sweat beading along the fine horns along his padawan's jaw line.

Morra quickly looked over to Qui-Gon and noted the sheen of sweat and look of apparent pain on the master's face. He glanced back at his apprentice and whispered, "Do not exert yourself too much, padawan."

Zeller didn't hear his master's words, but felt his distinct aura next to him. With a surge of hope and determination, he tried to send some guidance to the confusion still swirling in Qui-Gon's mind. A flicker, barely registered to the human eye, a picture surfaced but was swallowed up in shadows.

"Flowers," Qui-Gon and padawan Zeller whispered together.

"What about flowers?" Morra asked anxiously, leaning closer to Qui-Gon. "Come on, old friend. What about flowers?"

Qui-Gon gasped, his eyes crinkling together in pain as he wheezed out, "Pretty…flowers."

Morra huffed in an exasperated way and straightened, fixing his friend with a steely glare, though the other master was currently unaware of such actions. He felt the force surge, then fade quickly, all within the span of a heartbeat.

Zeller moaned and fell limp against the chair. Qui-Gon whimpered painfully and fell slack against his pillows, sweat causing his hair to cling to his face.

Morra pushed Qui-Gon into a more comfortable sleeping position, wiping away the stray strands of hair. Qui-Gon moaned with the movements and soft sobs escaped his dry throat. Morra tucked Qui-Gon soundly in his blankets and turned to assist his padawan.

Zeller opened bleary eyes to see his master kneeling in front of him, "I am sorry, Master. I tried, but there is something that is not allowing me the access I need. It is a fight that I fear is not of Master Jinn."

Morra nodded, wiping his padawan's face lovingly, "Hush young one. It is all right. Healer Yet'ilia has encountered what you speak of. She does not know a way to combat it, and I think if a trained, senior healer is unable to break through such a defense, then I know that you have no hope of doing so."

Zeller sighed, feeling physically and emotionally drained, "I just do not wish to disappoint."

"There is no disappointment, my young apprentice," Morra said assuringly. "You have done your best and there is no more that could be asked."

Zeller nodded, though didn't meet his master's gaze.

Morra gently cupped the youth's face and tilted his head to look into his eyes, "Do not allow guilt to plague your thoughts."

Zeller shrugged, "I feel that I have not helped Master Jinn. I fear his memories may be too distorted for me to see clearly, and I do not know a way to sort through all the chaos I see within his mind."

"Healer Yet'ilia said there may be brain damage from the concussion and infection that nearly claimed Master Jinn's life," Morra explained. "There may be some memories he shall never recover."

"But I feel that he needs to remember," Zeller pressed, giving his master a pleading look. "There is something there, Master, I can sense it. I just can not break through the block that accesses the crucial moments."

"If Yet'ilia can not break it," Morra grinned. "Then I doubt that a padawan learner could break through. Do not center yourself around what you can not change. Perhaps if there is some order to the chaos, it will bring the other things into focus."

Zeller sighed in defeat, "Though there is much to decipher, I believe I have made some progress."

"That is good, padawan," Morra said, pulling the chair away from the door so the duo could exit. He put his arm around his short padawan's shoulders and felt the youngster lean into him. "Not all things begin big, my young apprentice. Some things must need to begin small, and build up to their potential."

"I understand," Zeller said through a yawn.

As the pair passed by Yet'ilia at a medstation, Morra gave her a saddened look, "Yet'ilia, please see to it that no one disturbs Qui-Gon. He has had an emotional day and needs some peace and solitude."

Yet'ilia nodded, "Then he shall have it. Thank you for your assistance, Master Morra."

Morra bowed his head, "Tis all I can do for my friend."

As the medical wing disappeared from view and the duo was shuttled along to their destination, padawan Zeller gave his master a dubious look, "Healer Yet'ilia acted rather odd. Master, did something happen while I was helping Master Jinn?"

Morra sighed and answered, "Yes, Padawan. But I am afraid that your curiosity will have to wait until you are well rested. I have a feeling, we may get another call before the funeral, and I will need time to think of some excuses."

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Qui-Gon slept through the day, awakening only when healer Yet'ilia entered carrying a large covered dinner tray. Qui-Gon groaned and rolled over, but the healer would not give up. She turned the illumination bank on high and tugged on the master's pillow, bidding him to rise.

"You must eat," Yet'ilia fussed and used the force to pull the reluctant master into a sitting position. "Come now, Qui-Gon. I promise that you will enjoy this."

"Not likely," the grumpy master mumbled as he straightened up his pillows to support him.

Yet'ilia smiled knowingly and lifted the lid to reveal some of Qui-Gon's favorite foods, including, much to the master's great delight, Dessert!

"I told you."

Qui-Gon smelled the rich Andarian broth, with roasted bread and his favorite vegetables from Yavin. He smiled to the healer, "Thank you, Yet'ilia."

The healer waved a dismissive hand, "Well, instead of you having to bribe and blackmail poor Master Morra into smuggling you food, I figured it was fine to allow you to have what you wanted. After all, the only way you will regain your strength is by eating, and you might as well enjoy _what_ you are eating."

Qui-Gon grinned through a mouthful of bread and broth. He ignored the comment about doing such underhanded things to Master Morra, and made a mental note to fully throttle the Korrdian master when he was able.

No sooner had Qui-Gon thought of tormenting his counterpart, then the Korrdian's voice rang through the room, "Qui-Gon, you are eating decent food!"

Yet'ilia glared at Morra and scoffed, "By the force, you think I run a derelict facility that serves only spoiled food and tortures my patients for the spectacle of it!"

"Don't you?" Qui-Gon asked with a smirk.

Yet'ilia fumed to the door and glared over her shoulder, "Remember who has access to needles."

Qui-Gon shrugged, "They don't bother me."

"I was not meaning you," Yet'ilia said, looking pointedly at Morra.

Morra gulped, eyes wide, "I haven't done anything! Why threaten me?"

"I don't know," Yetl'ilia snapped, "but it seemed to be a good idea. Just let my threat linger in your mind if you get any bright ideas!"

With a scathing look, she slammed the door shut behind her. Morra ventured to the door and pressed his ear against it, using the force to sense where the healer was. When he felt her force signature down the hall, he turned the lock and pushed the chair in front of the door.

"I don't know how much time we'll have, so do the best you can and return when I call," Morra instructed.

Zeller nodded and stood beside Qui-Gon, "Are you sure about this, Master?"

Qui-Gon pushed the empty food tray away and nodded, "We need answers and I'm running out of time."

Zeller nodded, lightly touched Qui-Gon's temple and felt the force swirl as he closed his eyes and began to concentrate. Zeller felt a swelling of energy, and tried to find the source of such an uprising, but the impact of the force swell nearly knocked the padawan off his feet. He leaned against the bed for support and whimpered as the energy surged again, burning into his mind and causing his mental shielding to falter.

Morra was at his padawan's side in a heartbeat, calling his name, "Zeller? Zeller, come out of it!"

Zeller felt a strange presence slam against him, sending his brain on fire and igniting his senses into a white hot pain. Screaming, Zeller withdrew his hand and fell limp against his master, who caught him before he struck the floor.

"Zeller?" Morra asked, trying to gain a response from the young one. "Zeller, can you hear me? Answer me, padawan. Zeller?"

Zeller moaned but remained unconscious.

A pounding on the door interrupted any further pleading by Morra.

"Qui-Gon? Morra? What is going on in there?" Yet'ilia's voice resounded. "Why is the door locked? Let me in this instant or I swear, by the force…."

Yet'ilia didn't have a chance to finish her threat for the door un-clicked and opened wide, allowing her access inside. She quickly looked around, noting Padawan Zeller asleep in a chair, and Morra with his head buried in Qui-Gon's blankets and was shaking.

"Morra, what is wrong? Who screamed?"

Morra looked up, his face cracked in a hysterical expression, "I am sorry if I alarmed you. Qui-Gon did one of his impressions again and I could not contain myself."

Yet'ilia gave the master a critical look, "Then why is he asleep now?"

Morra looked over to an unconscious Qui-Gon and turned red, fighting down the bubbling of laughter that fought its way to the surface, "And he passed out on me! I guess he doesn't have as much strength back as he claimed!"

Yet'ilia went to Qui-Gon's side and noted the sweat on his brow. She turned to Morra who was going to his padawan's side and nudging him to get him to wake. She regarded Qui-Gon again, noting his pale, ashen complexion and the beads of sweat drying on his skin and rationalized that the Korrdian master must be telling the truth. Exhaustion had claimed Qui-Gon and he slept peacefully.

Dimming the lights, Yet'ilia watched as Morra tried again to rouse his apprentice, "Why will he not waken?"

Morra wiped his eyes and shrugged, "I should not have insisted he perform all those kattas this afternoon. I think he is completely worn out." With a grin the Korrdian master hoisted his apprentice into his arms and gave Yet'ilia a cheeky smile, "I think he has earned a respite. A couple days of respite from training should be sufficient."

Yet'ilia sighed and followed the master out of Qui-Gon's room and closed the door soundlessly. She escorted the master down the hall, "I wanted to thank you for helping Qui-Gon. He needed someone to talk to and help him come to terms with his loss."

Morra bowed his head slightly, "I am happy to be of service. I will remain at his side until he no longer needs me."

Yet'ilia smiled, "You are a loyal friend, Master Morra."

"I try to be," Morra grinned as the lift opened up and accepted him and his slumbering apprentice, "Whatever the outcome of this, I know that Qui-Gon will heal and that he will be whole once more."

Yet'ilia opened her mouth to speak but the lift doors closed and whooshed the master away before she could say what was on her mind. With a frown, she returned to her duties, wondering if there was a double meaning in the master's words, and if she should be worrying over what he said.


	7. Chapter 7: When the Light Returns

Title: **Fallen Embers**

Chapter Seven: When the Light Returns

All disclaimers and warnings are in the first chapter.

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Qui-Gon awoke to the sounds of the healing wing coming alive after a restful night. Patients hurried from the corridors, relieved to be away from the healers and their cold prodding instruments and constant questions. The sun bathed the room in a brilliant light as it peaked from behind skyscrapers.

Qui-Gon sat on the edge of the bed, waiting to hear the telltale whine from his padawan that he didn't want to get up and that the day can progress just fine without him. With a heavy sigh, Qui-Gon realized the call was not going to come. Obi-Wan was not at his side.

Qui-Gon lowered his head, feeling tears sting his eyes and threatening to spill down his burning cheeks. A sharp stab of pain in his chest made his breath become hitched and labored, the agony swirling in his soul churning up and demanding attention. A raw sensation seared through the master's mind, reminding him of the lonely feeling that remained his constant companion, a void that was once filled with a cheeky viridian eyed apprentice.

"It is time for some breakfast," Yet'ilia said in a cheerful voice as she entered the room. When she noticed the master's red, tear stained face, she put the tray on a stand and reached out with the force to try and soothe the master's mind. The strong block met her force incursion head on, causing her to stumble back from the intensity. She panted with a worried expression, "Qui-Gon, how do you expect me to help if you will not allow me access to your mind?"

"I do not want company right now," Qui-Gon said with a choked voice. "Please, let me be."

Yet'ilia wanted to argue that she could help, but decided that Qui-Gon could have his way. With a bow of her head, she closed to the door behind her to give the master his privacy.

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As the afternoon sun topped the skyscraper of the Galactic Commerce Guild, Master Morra and Padawan Zeller made their way to Qui-Gon's room. Morra knocked and heard a muffled voice inside demand to be left alone. With a grin to his apprentice, he opened the door wide and beamed.

"Is that any way to greet a guest?" Morra scoffed. "Such manners you have."

Qui-Gon was lying in bed with his blankets tucked in tightly around his frame. When he recognized his friend's voice, he flung the blankets off and rose, "Where have you been?"

"I have been all over the galaxy," Morra grinned. "Can you be a bit more vague on what you mean?"

Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes in contempt, "I have waited all morning for you so we may try again!"

Morra, for once, looked very put out and apprehensive.

Qui-Gon looked to Zeller and said, "Let us try again. I am hoping that I have gained some control over the force and I may assist you into unlocking my memories."

Padawan Zeller gave Qui-Gon a miserable look, then glanced to his master. Qui-Gon frowned at the youth, wondering why he looked so piteous and anxious.

"There will not be any attempts today, old friend," Morra said with an even tone.

Qui-Gon looked sharply at his friend and growled, "Why not?"

"Because the last time he delved into your mind, it had exhausted him physically and emotionally, but also gave him horrible nightmares, which I may add kept the both of us up all night," Morra explained. "His mind and emotions are too weak to attempt anymore poking around in your chaotic mind."

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to speak, but Morra raised his voice and glared, "You may argue and fuss all you like, Qui-Gon, but I will not allow my padawan to do further damage to himself because of **your** wishes."

Zeller kept his head bowed and tried to shrink away, unnoticed. He knew his master was only being protective of him, but it did not help the sense of cold dread that welled in the youth's stomach. He knew that Master Jinn was counting on him, and it distressed him to hear his master's stern voice and know that Qui-Gon's hope was slipping away.

"There will no attempts for several days," Morra continued. "My padawan needs time to rest and recuperate from what your mind and emotions have done to him."

Qui-Gon was taken aback at his friend's tone. Never had the Korddian master spoken to him in such a manner. He sat on the edge of the bed in a daze, eyes unfocused and his thoughts jumbled. Zeller was his only chance at recovering his lost memories and Obi-Wan was running out of time.

Mace's voice echoed in Qui-Gon's mind. The words kept repeating, over and over. _'Large scale weapons have been deployed. The planet will not be inhabitable for much longer.'_

"Just one more time?" Qui-Gon's voice was pleading. "I know that I have more control over the force now, and all I need is Padawan Zeller's help for just a short time. I can help this time. Please, Morra. Let him try again."

"I am sorry, old friend," Morra shook his head. "It is too risky and I will not allow him to be subjected to such a burden again. Not when he hasn't had sufficient time to recover."

Qui-Gon looked to the small padawan and said, "I am sorry, padawan. Please, forgive my selfishness."

Zeller's soft blue eyes regarded the master, "Please, forgive me, Master Jinn. I am sorry I have not been able to help you."

"No, little one," Qui-Gon sighed. "It is I who should be sorry. I should not have asked such a thing."

"I understand," Zeller said with a smile. "I just didn't want you to be mad because of our lack of progress."

"Mad?" Qui-Gon asked, his expression softened upon seeing the downcast look on Zeller's face. The image of another apprentice in such a manner, made Qui-Gon's eyes pool once again. "I would never be mad." With a choked sniff, he smiled, "you would get along with Obi-Wan. He has the same fears and never ending willingness to help."

Zeller looked warily to his master. Morra sighed and addressed Qui-Gon, "Obi-Wan's funeral is today. We have come to help you get ready to attend the services, that is, if you are able."

Qui-Gon felt as if someone had socked him in the stomach with an iron fist. The wind rushed out of his body. An icy dread crept throughout his being. "Funeral?"

"Yes, Qui-Gon," Morra said with a sympathetic look. "Obi-Wan's funeral. Master Windu and I have mentioned it several times."

Qui-Gon nodded, unsure if had a voice. At the mention of Obi-Wan's funeral, something inside clammed up. A numbness spread over his body. His heart stopped beating, lungs stopped working, mind locked into a stalemate.

A dull thud sounded distantly in his ears that resembled his heartbeat. Yet, after a minute of the steady, hollow rhythm, he surmised that it was, indeed, his heart, or what was left of it.

'_I hear the beat of my life, though there is nothing left of my soul,'_ Qui-Gon thought with a chill down his spine.

"Qui-Gon?" Morra asked again. He grabbed his friend by the shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. "Qui-Gon, you don't have to go if you are unable. Everyone will understand."

Qui-Gon gave his Korddian counterpart a hard look, "Are you still sincere about what we discussed?"

Morra leaned close and whispered, "I hold true to my word, old friend. When Zeller is recovered, and he is willing, he will try to help you gain the answers you seek."

"We do not have much time,' Qui-Gon's voice broke as fresh tears threatened to fall.

"I know," Morra said, pulling Qui-Gon against him in a rare embrace. "We will find your son. Of that, you have my promise."

Qui-Gon broke down and permitted his tears to flow. Never had he allowed another see him cry, but with all that had happened to him, he couldn't stop himself. He cried from loneliness, despair, and fatigue. Images of Obi-Wan flashed through his mind and caused a wave of grief to crash against his defenses. The fear of Obi-Wan alone and scared, hoping for his master's rescue, filled him with such anguish. Morra and Zeller flinched from the onslaught they sensed.

Yet'ilia entered the room and said softly, "It is time."

Morra waved her away and allowed Qui-Gon to compose himself. Qui-Gon wiped his eyes and apologized for his outburst.

"There is no apology necessary," Morra said with a bittersweet smile.

With Morra and Zeller's help, Qui-Gon changed into a pair of loose pants and soft, beige tunic. He grumbled about the healing clothes and made many colorful phrases about his distaste for the attire. He combed through his uneven hair, noticing that the shorn locks were growing fast, and would match his regular cut soon. When he had finished, he turned to Morra and nodded, "I am ready."

Yet'ilia had been lurking outside the door. She pushed a hoverchair into the room and motioned towards it.

Qui-Gon looked at the chair with contempt, "I am capable of walking, thank you."

"I have no doubt that your stubbornness would agree. However, since you are still recovering, and you are still under my care, you will use this or remain confined to your room," Yet'ilia looked to Morra and added, "Without any visitors."

"Just get in, Qui-Gon," Morra whispered, giving Yet'ilia a frightened glance. "For once, damn your pride and listen to the healer's orders."

Qui-Gon gave Morra an angry stare, "You would not say that if we were in each other's positions."

Yet'ilia grinned, "All I would have to do is get a needle. Master Morra would do everything I ask."

Morra looked terrified, then affronted. "You would not have to threaten me in such a manner. I am a model patient."

Yet'ilia rolled her eyes, "Sure you are."

Zeller snickered. Morra gave his padawan a reproachful look, which took the amusement from the apprentice.

Yet'ilia grinned, "Morra, if you don't help me get Qui-Gon to cooperate, then I may get that needle yet."

Morra's fur bristled, but he turned to Qui-Gon, "Get in the hoverchair and behave."

Qui-Gon crossed his arms, "And what if I refuse?"

"Then I shall break your legs and you won't have the option of walking," Morra said. "Sit."

Qui-Gon hesitated for a moment, then complied with a foul look. He tried to hide his shaking limbs, but Yet'ilia raised a brow with a knowing expression. Qui-Gon turned from the healer's smug look and situated himself more comfortably in the hoverchair, wishing his trembling hands would cease their traitorous movements.

Yet'ilia pushed the chair forward, feeling her heart weigh heavily in her chest. She knew this was not going to be easy.

It never was.

Though many had tried to hide their anguish, they always broke down. Usually, the healer was able to offer some support and comfort with the force, but with the strange anomaly still lingering around Qui-Gon's mind, she knew her attempts would be futile.

Morra flanked his friend's side. Zeller walked behind his master, his head bowed.

The lift took the quartet down several floors, though it didn't compare to the sinking hearts held within. Each one fell a little further into a well of desolation, taking them to the level that many Jedi loathed and avoided.

The lift opened to a long, wide hall. The quiet group stepped out and began the tedious journey to the end. No heat seemed to enter this part of the temple. The walls and stone floor stayed icy cold, and a haunting chill loomed in the air to caress those who dared trespass. The hall seemed to expand into a tunnel, echoing the footsteps and soft whirring noises of the hoverchair. In private, the Jedi referred to the level as, '_The Tomb_.'

The corridor opened into a large room, the Hall of Remembrance. White marble tiles lined the floor, lightly dusted with pastel flecks of every color. Large columns of gray supported a ceiling that reflected a peacock blue to highlight the golden rays of fake sunshine that filtered through the illumination banks. Rows upon rows of tiles, roughly the size of a book, were lining the walls on two sides. Across from these tiles rose benches, and a higher dais for the council, all draped with black silk that contrasted to their pale countenance.

Qui-Gon felt his breath leave him as he stared at the cold stones that beheld names of those lost in battle. He had attended many funerals in this hall, and never had he thought to endure one for his apprentice.

Morra nodded silently to Yet'ilia, and steered the hoverchair up a small incline, taking Qui-Gon to the upper level where the council were seated. A small initiate, no more than ten standard years, greeted the two masters and draped a ceremonial cloth around Qui-Gon's shoulders. The material was silver in color, with ancient runes and symbols embossed over its surface, shimmering with grief as it shrouded the master.

Qui-Gon felt tears sting his eyes but fought down the urge to weep. He nodded his thanks to the initiate and took his place upon the high row with the council. Qui-Gon looked around the room, taking in the occupants and was shocked to see most of the Order among the grieving in the stands. All were dressed in their colors of sorrow, silver for the males, and pearly white for the females.

Qui-Gon's eyes landed on a trio at the very bottom of the benches who were huddled together. They were Obi-Wan's best friends while at the temple. Reeft and Garen were on either side of a salmon pink girl called Bant, their arms all intertwined as they consoled each other. Their respective masters were sitting behind them on the lower-most bench, allowing the friends the chance to grieve.

Qui-Gon inclined his head to each councilor in turn, then turned his attention to the lectern illuminated by a large glow-rod. Master Windu approached the podium, his face a mixture of heartache and sorrow. He motioned towards the trio huddled together, and after many attempts to wipe faces and straighten ceremonial robes, they began the slow walk to the podium.

"It is a sad day for the Jedi," Mace started when the trio gained his side. "One has been taken from our midst before his time, leaving us all to mourn his passing and to celebrate the life he had. Though it was short, his spirit burned brighter than any other. Obi-Wan Kenobi will be missed by all."

A choked sob escaped the councilman. Mace pursed his lips and looked down, gathering his thoughts and hoping to subdue his emotions that threatened to boil over. He took several deep breaths and addressed the assembly once more, "Obi-Wan's closest friends wish to say a few words."

Qui-Gon felt a horrible, sinking sensation, sitting in the hoverchair, unable to give the speech that his padawan so desperately deserved. Though, all the disgust he felt towards himself and his ailing body, a tiny voice chided the master, reminding him that his padawan was not yet lost, and that he was wasting his time on mourning something that was not gone.

Bant nodded her thanks to the councilman, who had placed a hand on his face as he withdrew from the light cast by the glow-rod. Garen and Reeft flanked her, their arms still linked around each other's midsection in support.

"Thank you, Master Windu," Bant began in a quavering voice. She swallowed hard, her voice barely over a whisper, "I never imagined speaking at my best friend's funeral. All during our youth, which seems now to be so long ago, we never thought we would say good-bye." She took a deep, shaky breath, "We know our missions are wrought with peril, and there are chances that are taken while in the field. Death is a natural part of life, but not once did it occur to us that it would happen to those we love so dearly. It's so difficult to grow and learn with someone, then suddenly, they are no longer there."

Garen wiped stray tears from his face. His hand shook noticeably, and after several attempts to stem the flow, he allowed the crystal tears to fall. He bowed his head, unable to make eye contact with anyone, including his master.

Bant tried to inject her voice with strength, but it came out has a hoarse rasp, "Obi-Wan was my first friend. The one who took me under his wing and watched over me when others would be cruel, and stayed after training to practice with me so I could become the swordsman I am today. Without his patience and encouragement, I would have never reached my potential, and to him, I shall always be grateful."

Bant lowered her head, then buried her face in Garen's neck, her sobs muffled by his tunic.

Garen opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He frowned, unable to express what he was feeling and simply looked up the council and spotted Qui-Gon seated in the hoverchair. He gave a small bow, "We know your pain, Master Qui-Gon. We loved Obi-Wan very much, and will miss him."

Unable to control himself any longer, Garen wrapped his arms around Bant, both crying on each other's shoulder.

The abundant wrinkles on Reeft's face, which were natural to his race, had always given the Dresselian a look of worried sadness. Today, his wrinkles seemed to have doubled in his grief, and tears splashed on his ceremonial tunic. Knowing that the other two were not able to speak, Reeft took a deep breath and continued where Garen left off, "Obi-Wan was my best friend, too. Even if he was starving, he always shared whatever he was eating with me."

Those who knew of Reeft's insatiable appetite giggled through their sniffles. Many gave the Dresselian a soft smile, having shared a meal with him at some time or another. Qui-Gon gave a choked laugh, remembering all the food Obi-Wan had nicked on missions to bring to Reeft.

"Obi-Wan sat through many meditations with me," Reeft admitted, "He knew I had difficulty with them, and always sat by my side, without ever complaining. He knew my fears, and helped me to overcome them, just by the strength of his will. He knew what I could and would become, and made sure that I was allowed the chance."

Qui-Gon's face was wet with tears, but he allowed a small smirk. The Obi-Wan he knew hated meditations, and the knowledge that the cheeky apprentice had done so many over the years to ease others, brought a smile to the master's face. Obi-Wan had really made a difference. He had touched so many lives, and helped so many people. Suddenly, Qui-Gon didn't feel so pleased with the force. It had allowed such a young talent to begin its life, then cut it down so viciously before its full potential.

A jolt of pain hitched in Qui-Gon's chest, momentarily stealing his breath. Morra gave him a concerned look, but Qui-Gon waved a shaky hand and returned his attention to Reeft, his eyes having difficulty focusing on the distance.

"The loyalty and friendship that I shared with Obi-Wan will remain in my heart until the day my name is placed upon this wall," Reeft continued, getting muffled sobs and anguished looks in reply. He turned gravely to the small plaque engraved with Obi-Wan's name, date of birth and death, and Master's name, "I would give back everything if I could ask just one more thing. I don't mean to sound greedy, Obi-Wan," he cast his eyes skyward, "but would you come back to us?"

Bant collapsed against Garen at Reeft's words. Her wails of anguish were modified in the high polished room, mixing with the sniffling and whimpering of those in attendance.

Qui-Gon felt his entire body tremble with suppressed sorrow. He wanted to lash out, to strike, scream, anything to make the pressure around his heart dissolve. A horrible wrenching in the pit of his stomach almost made him retch with agony. His vision clouded as Mace replaced Bant, Garen, and Reeft, who had retreated to their seats and sat huddled together crying louder than any other.

Mace had composed himself during Bant and Garen's quick speeches, but Reeft's humble, heartfelt request of having his best friend back, had broken all barriers. Tears reflected the shining light in the councilman's eyes as he gave the small plaque one last polish with his tunic sleeve, something that was respectful and intimate, and handed the small plaque to a robotic arm that carefully accepted the proffered piece.

As the robotic arm made its slow progress up the side and between two rows to place Obi-Wan's name on the Wall of Remembrance, Mace said sadly, "Obi-Wan Kenobi, you are hereby granted the honor of being placed among masters and knights who have gone before. Your name will be a reminder to those that remain, of what we inspire to be, all that we hold dear. May the force welcome you home, and may you find peace."

There was a resounding click as the plaque was placed in its slot. The final resting place of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Qui-Gon felt a sudden explosion in his mind, like the cresting and breaking of a damn. Light flooded his wide eyes, images flashed by in rapid succession, and he gripped the arms of the hoverchair so hard his fingers turned white.

Padawan Zeller moved from his master's side and without preamble, pressed his fingers to Qui-Gon's temple. The natural telepathy of his species allowed him uninterrupted access, and with the aid of some unknown force, Zeller found a crack in Qui-Gon's mind. He commanded the force with all his might, and with a surge, broke through the anomaly that surrounded Qui-Gon's memories. Imagines were a blur, gone before the mind could register the picture. Emotions spilled out, crashing into the mental shielding of those nearby and sending them staggering with the intensity.

Morra gripped Zeller's shoulder, feeling the padawan tremble, but refusing to let go. Zeller gritted his teeth, willing the pictures to slow their progress, but his efforts seem to only fuel them faster. Qui-Gon let out an ear-piercing scream and slid out of the hoverchair. A stagnate, stale odor stung his nose as Zeller broke free from Qui-Gon.

"Qui-Gon?" several people exclaimed, watching the large master's slow decent to the floor.

Morra caught Zeller as he slumped, but the padawan gave his master a dazzling, yet somewhat exhausted smile, "It worked."

Morra was about to ask his padawan to explain, but Qui-Gon groaned and interrupted any questions. He looked sharply at the other master, who by now was being surrounded by the council members.

Qui-Gon's piercing blue eyes bore into Morra's as he said slowly, "Obi-Wan is alive."

With a shuddering gasp, Qui-Gon went limp, collapsing into Master Billba's arms. The masters exchanged meaningful looks. Finally, all gazes rested on Master Morra, who blushed and cleared his throat, feeling distinctly uncomfortable under their stares.

Yoda gave the Korrdian master a knowing look and said, "Relapsed he has."

Healer Yet'ilia hovered over Qui-Gon's form, roaming a small medical device along his temple. The small screen flashed rapid readings. After a moment, she gently touched his temple and closed her eyes, trying to gain access via the force. With a strangled cry, she withdrew and looked to Master Yoda, "His mind is no longer plagued by the anomaly, but his emotions are too turbulent and raw to engage at the moment."

Yoda sighed, "Believes that Obi-Wan still lives, he does."

Yet'ilia shook her head sympathetically, "I believe you are right. He can not seem to let go."

Mace Windu gained the platform in time to hear the healer's statement and gave the assembled leaders a distraught look, "This has gone on long enough. Yet'ilia, do what you must."

Yet'ilia looked uncomfortable, "I may have to excise the damaged part of his brain, the part that contains his memories."

Windu set his jaw with a defiant manner, his words terse and rough, "If that is what it takes, then do so. He can not continue in this manner."

Yet'ilia gave the council members a rueful gaze, "It will wipe out all memory of his life." She swallowed hard and looked down at the prone master, "He will not remember Obi-Wan."

Windu exchanged a meaningful look with Yoda. Both had witnessed Jedi undergo such procedures, and recalled they were never the same afterward. Though their minds were stabilized, functioning on a normal level, in no way did they retain their abilities. It was as if a part of their soul was missing, their bodies only a hollow shell of their former prominence. Every day would become a struggle to understand the emptiness that was left behind from something they did not recall or remember possessing.

Sometimes death was favored over the vague desolation that plagued hearts and minds.

The assembly in the Hall began to stir, exchanging stories and grieving in their own way. The babble broke out as varied beings conversed in their languages, some voicing strange songs of sorrow in their native tongue. No one seemed to realize the tumult on the council's dais.

Yet'ilia called for a med-bed and tried to once again to gain access to Qui-Gon's mind. Strong shielding slammed into place, preventing the healer from sensing the flashes of memory that were quickly filling in the missing moments on the Aphidian planet. Qui-Gon's eyes moved rapidly beneath his lids, his subconscious bombarded with images and forgotten fragments of time.

Two healers arrived with a med-bed and force lifted the downed master. Within seconds Qui-Gon was secured, his vitals registering on the small view screen. Yet'ilia gave the council a brief nod, and then escorted her patient back to the medical wing.

Yoda's shoulders drooped, his attitude somber, "Anguish and frustration I sense in him. Healed, his heart is not."

Windu mirrored his comrade's visage, "I hoped that he had accepted young Kenobi's death, but it looks as if he was merely deceiving us. The time has come for drastic measures."

Yoda nodded wearily, "The same, he will not be."

"They never are," Windu murmured.

Morra sighed, "I should stay with him while the healers prepare for surgery."

"That is a good idea," Windu put in. "Perhaps it wise to have someone to assist the healers if he becomes uncontrollable again."

Morra gave the council a respectful bow and retreated, Zeller sweeping into place behind him. As the due entered the lift, Morra gave his padawan a sidelong glance. Zeller's jaw was set firmly, the small horns on the underside jutting out in determination.

"You are sure?" Morra's voice was soft and gentle.

"Positive, Master," Zeller said triumphantly. "Master Jinn has broken through his barrier and the memories are coming back to him. We can not allow the healers to take away what is not lost!"

Morra smirked, "I see my rebelliousness in you."

Zeller favored his master with a brilliant smile, "I take that as high compliment indeed."

Morra puffed out his chest like a proud hen. The lift opened onto the healing ward and the two hurried down the corridor to find their prey. Spotting Yet'ilia leaving a room halfway down the hall, master and padawan exchanged triumphant looks. Morra stopped outside the door, straightened his robes and instructed his padawan to do the same. Morra whispered instructions to his charge, then entered the room. Zeller remained outside the door, his eyes watchful and the force murmuring in his mind.

Qui-Gon lay on a med-bed. His shirt had been removed and an ill-fitting gown draped over his form. Several healers were bent over the master. Swabs, bottles of vile looking liquids, and needles flashed in the healers' hands as they began intravenous medicine drips. The pungent smell of antiseptic filled the room. Qui-Gon's head was being swabbed with bacta, as the surgical team began their preparations.

One healer was marking the side of Qui-Gon's head, dotting lines to indicate the incision marks.

Master Morra watched the proceedings with a wrinkled brow. He focused on his friend closely, noticing the flickers of consciousness that Qui-Gon began to show. When the healers were finished with their disinfecting, they gave Morra a respectful bow then took their leave.

Morra waited until the last healer left, and then bent his great form over his friend. "Qui-Gon, can you hear me?"

Qui-Gon's eyes fluttered a few times, his lips moving convulsively.

Morra frowned, and gave Qui-Gon a little shake, "Qui-Gon? Come on, Qui-Gon! I need you to wake up!"

Qui-Gon moaned, his lids flickered, and then creased open to reveal an intense stare. Eyes that once were distant and clouded with pain and sorrow, were now sharp and poignant. Their piercing depths sought those of his friend, and when their eyes locked, Morra withdrew slightly in alarm. Determination shone brightly amidst the swirling blue.

Qui-Gon tried to rise to a sitting position, but the numbing properties of the bacta wash and the drugs now being steadily supplied to the master's veins, prevented little movement. He growled, pulling himself semi-upright, and glared at Morra, "What is wrong with me?"

Morra recovered from his shock and answered, "You are to undergo surgery. The healers are going to erase your memories."

Qui-Gon looked stunned, his face frozen in disbelief.

"You said Obi-Wan was alive, and Zeller was able to break through the block in your mind," Morra said with a hurried whisper. "Can you remember what happened?"

Qui-Gon nodded, "Yes, I can remember everything."

Morra smiled, "Then tell me, what happened to Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon motioned to Morra, "First, help me to dress."

Morra instantly jumped to aid his friend in pulling out the needles. The medications spilled, mixing in swirls of iridescent colors on the sterilized floor. Drips of blood mixed with the medication, giving it the primordial aspect of a witch's brew.

Qui-Gon winced as he pulled off the offending gown. As the garment went over Qui-Gon's head, he growled, "I hate these things!" Still fussing, he squirmed into his loose shirt that Morra had procured.

Morra frowned, then removed his robes and held them for Qui-Gon to slip into.

Qui-Gon gave Morra a dubious look and asked, "What are these for?"

"To wear, bantha brains," Morra snorted. "I do not need them, and you may catch a cold. You are still recovering, remember?"

Qui-Gon scoffed but nevertheless allowed his counterpart to pull the robes onto his shoulders. The robes fell well past Qui-Gon's feet, his height a full foot shorter than the Korddian's.

"Perfect fit," Morra retorted.

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes, "Shall we go?"

Morra nodded and wrapped his beam of an arm around Qui-Gon's waist, "Let us go get your son."

Qui-Gon heaved a sigh of relief that was mingled with a sob, "I should never have left him."

Stationed at the doorway, Zeller motioned that it was clear. Morra nodded and followed his padawan, allowing the youngster to lead the way to the lifts. He knew that Zeller was capable of leading them safely, and if someone were to try to waylay them, Zeller could supply some of the best excuses to convince even the most hardened of healer. Morra grinned to himself. He taught his padawan well.

Zeller reached the lifts at the far end of the corridor and pressed the button that would take them to the launch bays. His pale blue eyes never ceased their movement, darting everywhere for signs of healers or initiates that could hamper their escape.

As the trio waited, Qui-Gon began recalling what happened on Aphidia, "Obi-Wan was to wait for me at the hospital, but I could sense that he would not be safe there, so I instructed him to hide. At first, he did not want to leave the sick and injured, but the rebels attacked."

Morra tightened his grip on his friend, feeling the large frame starting to tremble.

The lift showed that it was nearing its destination, and gave speed to Qui-Gon's story, "Obi-Wan was found by a few of the rebels when he was trying to hide. They marked him for death. Their death squads have a very unusual and sickening way of disposing of their _official_ prisoners. They eat them, one bite at a time. Political enemies, soldiers, conspirators, and traitors, all are slowly consumed by their death squads."

"I thought the Aphidia people were peaceful," Morra remarked as the lift showed a couple of floors separated them from freedom.

"Mostly they are," Qui-Gon agreed. "But with the accepting of the Republic ways, they would have to conform to new legislature. You have to understand that the death squads were in service since the beginning of their civilization. To think they would no longer be allowed the luxury, to which they were born for and accustomed to, caused too much strife among the people. The revolutionists were far more in number than what the government assumed. They spread discord among the citizens and turned them against one another."

Morra shook his head, "It never ceases to amaze me, the length some go to keep themselves into the lifestyle to which they become accustomed."

The lift arrived, the doors whooshing open to accept its cargo. As the trio stepped inside, they heard a familiar tapping on the floor. Zeller instantly froze, his finger poised above the button marked for the launch bays. His eyes became wide. He glanced quickly to his master, who eased Qui-Gon inside and turned to look the length of the hall.

Master Yoda stood in the center of the corridor, his diminutive figure barely discernable in the distance. His eyes were narrowed, mouth set in a firm line as he witnessed a friendly treason. His fiery emerald eyes met the cobalt brilliance of his former padawan for an instant, before the doors closed, whooshing the conspirators off on their adventure.

Yoda sighed, shaking his head and wondering what punishment the council would see fit to instate upon its most unruly of members.

The lift seemed to take an age to reach its destination, and when it halted at the launch level, three very eager passengers exited with great haste. Zeller rushed to the small cabin cruiser parked midway on the pad. He raced into the cockpit and started the preliminary checklist, warming the engines, confirming power and fuel supplies, getting necessary permission from space lanes and trafficking patrols.

Morra settled into the co-pilot's seat after securing Qui-Gon in the chair behind. He went over the controls, familiar with the ship and its design. The sub-light and hyperdrive engines were in top working condition, this ship being a newer model. Besides the pilot and co-pilot positions, there were two sets of passenger seats, and a compact med-bed built into the rear. The seats reclined back to allow comfortable slumbers, and were equipped with many compartments for various uses.

As the shuttle prepared for departure, a voice crackled over the comm, "You are in violation of Code one sixty-eight. The council has rescinded your authority to leave the temple. Please shut down the engines and exit the craft, where you will be escorted to the council chambers for an immediate audience."

Morra gave his padawan a half-glance, knowing the impetuous youth, "The ship is at your command, my padawan."

Zeller grinned, switched off the communications signal, and eased up on the controls. The ship lifted off the platform and after retracting the landing gear, slipped out of the temple hanger and shot directly through the space lanes, much to the anger and chagrin of other pilots. As soon as the ship was clear of Coruscant's gravity, he engaged the hyperdrive and the ship rocketed into the star-strewn sky.

Morra relaxed in his chair and spun it semi-around to face his friend, "There is going to be some reprimands for this."

Qui-Gon shrugged, "I am no stranger to such actions."

Morra chuckled, "As of late, I can honestly say that neither am I."

"We will reach Aphidia in a little over twelve hours," Zeller said, putting on the auto-pilot and settling back in his chair. "This ship may look fast, but it lacks the speed that I prefer."

Qui-Gon laughed, "You sound like Obi-Wan. He loves his speed as well."

Zeller smiled, "I look forward to meeting him."

Qui-Gon's face sobered, "I just hope that we are not too late. It has been many weeks, and he has been all alone."

"He has not been alone, master," Zeller said with confidence. "He has had the force with him, as well as you."

Qui-Gon felt waves of gratitude and happiness swell in his chest at the padawan's words. The feeling smothered the anxiety and worry that plagued the master since his wakening.

"Get some rest, Master Jinn," Zeller said. "You will need to recover your strength to help Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon nodded sleepily and reclined the seat. Morra found a blanket in storage and placed it over the already slumbering Jedi master. His face was long and puritanical. He exchanged a look with his padawan, his mouth drawn down in concern.

The Temple had received word that the planet Aphidia was now in a state of destruction. Devastation from large scale weapons that were deployed many days previously, had spread a sepia pall over the planet.

Morra wondered if he should have told his friend what may be waiting for them when they arrived, but somehow, couldn't bring himself to shatter the heart of his long time friend.

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**Authors Note:** Well, there's one more chapter then this epic is over. Its been a grand, if not LONG journey and I wanted to Thank everyone for going on this little trip with me. Please be sure to drop me a note, using that little button there in the corner. Feedback is appreciated, and quick frankly, its one HELL of a jones! lol


	8. Chapter 8

Title: **Fallen Embers**

Chapter Eight: I Can Hear You Calling In the Distance, and I Am Found

All disclaimers and warnings are in the first chapter.

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Qui-Gon awoke to gentle shaking and a distant voice calling. He opened bleary eyes and focused on the Korddian master hovering over him. "What is it, Morra?"

Morra straightened, "We have dropped out of hyperspace and are approaching Aphidia."

Qui-Gon winced as he pulled himself upright. "Find a place to land as close as to where you found me."

Zeller turned from the controls, "I am sorry Master Jinn, but the square we found you seems to have been demolished."

Qui-Gon staggered closer to the view port, his knees wobbling from lack of strength and anxiety over what he may see. A planet of complete destruction met his gaze. The atmosphere was a sepia pall, wadded, twisted, and writhing upon itself like discontented ghosts. The land between the sooty cotton was charred black and disfigured by the ignorance of its people.

Qui-Gon gasped as the landscape as Zeller dropped the ship into a lower altitude. Soot began to form a film on the forward view port, impeding the vision of those inside.

Skimming the surface, the awesome destruction became more apparent and more appalling. Ash carpeted much of the ground. Trees that were once proud sentries now lay as naked skeletons up on the desolation of the planet. Bodies were stacked in tall mounds, burned beyond recognition. Buildings tumbled, dissolved, and gave up their foundations with sad cries of mourning. Piles of naked brush dotted the world, stripped bare of its life for use by the '_higher intelligent beings'_ that used their precious lives for annihilation. Lives of people, animal, and planet were sacrificed for the blood thirsty tastes of the tyrants that wanted their own way.

"Obi-Wan was here?" Morra said in a hushed tone. "All alone?"

Qui-Gon nodded and said shakily, "I never would have left him. This is my fault. If we do not make it in time, then I will forfeit my own life for the treason in which I caused."

Morra noted the tone of despair in his friend's voice and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, "All is not lost, my friend. Not as long as we carry those we love in our hearts and never forget what they mean to us."

Qui-Gon nodded mutely, his gaze lost on the horizon where the sun was just beginning to rise. His mind flickered back to when he and his padawan first arrived. How the stars twinkled high in the sky. How the sun bathed the world in a warm welcome every morning during their saber practice. The pureness of the air, how sweet the smell of the flora that bloomed all around had enticed their senses from the moment of their arrival. The silver flood of light when the twin moons rose every night to wash the world in silver luminance.

Now the world was blackened, wasted, and scarred. The people were ghosts of their own making, striped of their life and soul. Their actions were mirrored in the devastation they caused to the animal and plant life of their once beautiful world. Never again will this world support life. It had become a sanctuary of emptiness, of nothingness, of endless days of darkness.

The ship hovered over the ground like an angry bee over a black blossom. Dust roiled and spread from the vortices of the ship as it swept the area where the Jedi master had been found. Intricately constructed dwellings now crumpled against one another like waifs fearing the hand of a cruel master.

Zeller's eyes filled with tears as he looked over the wasteland that was once a thriving world. His hand gripped the steering mechanisms until his honey colored skin turned orange with strain. The pain that radiated from the planet in its death throes was overwhelming the padawan. A choked sob escaped his lips before he could stop himself.

Morra went to his padawan's side and said in soft tones, "I can feel it as well, my young apprentice."

Zeller gasped, "There is so much pain and anguish here, master. How can one do this to such beauty? How can they destroy something that was so precious and fragile?"

"I do not know," Morra sighed. "Ignorance seems to know not of the beautiful, the wise, the sacred, or of the delicate balance that keeps it all in harmony. They care only for themselves and what they may gain."

Zeller swerved the ship over a deep gash in the landscape, vectoring in for a landing close to the place where they had found Qui-Gon. A heated updraft rocked the ship, causing it to list heavily on its side. Qui-Gon and Morra fell heavily, their heads colliding against bulkhead, knees crashing into the passenger seats.

"Sorry," Zeller called. "I did not realize how strong the currents were coming from the cracked strata."

"It is alright, padawan," Morra called, pulling himself into the copilots seat and rubbing his bruises. "Just try to stay away from the vents."

Zeller gave a half-hearted smile and changed their direction. As the ship flew through the thick cottony atmosphere it collected thick, vile-colored grime from the sooty serpents twining around them. Zeller flipped a switch to change the view port to another light wave length to allow them to locate a place to land. After a few minutes of circling, Zeller set the ship down on a street that was free of rubble, one of the very few.

The Jedi watched the atmospheric instruments in the ship, measuring the level of noxious gas in the air. The levels were dangerously high and still rising. They would have precious few moments to search for their lost brethren.

"We don't have much time," Qui-Gon snapped, pulling a breather pack from the storage unit on the wall and inserting it into his mouth. He pulled another out of its niche and secured it in his pocket. Without warning, he limped to the entrance hatch and lowered the landing ramp.

Morra yelled, "Qui-Gon! Wait! Wait for us!"

Zeller gave his master a dubious look, "Can it be possible that Kenobi survived in this atmosphere for this long?"

Morra pulled another breathing unit out of its storage place and sighed, "It is unlikely, but I have learned that Kenobi is as stubborn as his master. I will bet my life that he still lives."

Master and padawan raced out of the ship, following their hobbling companion. The heat hit their bodies so hard it felt like a blow from a mighty Colossus. They choked through the air purifiers. The small models were to be used only during normal breathing, not running through noxious fumes that would kill a humanoid within a few minutes. Ignoring the beeps of the taxed purifiers, they hurried to Qui-Gon's side.

Taking a deep breath, Morra removed the breather to ask, "Do you know where you are going?"

Qui-Gon shook his head and answered, "I can feel Obi-Wan near, but I can't seem to focus on his location."

"The force mourns the loss of life," Morra said, choked, replaced his breather and took several deep breaths. After he regained his breath he added, "The turmoil is very intense here. I can feel the force crying out in my mind."

Qui-Gon nodded, frowning and taking a tentative step down a small ally. He barely took a few steps when the building on the right grumbled. With a wary look, Morra grabbed Qui-Gon's arm and hauled him back in time to prevent the building from claiming another victim on this war begotten planet.

Qui-Gon nodded his thanks and started in a different direction. Morra charged his lungs with oxygen and called out, "Qui-Gon, this will take too long! We don't have time to linger."

Qui-Gon took a deep breath and said, "I can feel him near, but I can't focus on the exact location."

Morra pointed over his shoulder, "Zeller can!"

Zeller closed his eyes, his mind straining through the cries of the force saturating the planet as it gave up its life. Separating the cries and searching through the turmoil to find the one plea for help that had brought them across the galaxy to save. After a moment of lamenting bombardments, Zeller opened his eyes and pointed down a side street that was hazy through the soot in the air.

"Obi-Wan is there."

Amazingly, the side street had been overlooked by the monster of devastation. Its cobbles were virtually free of soot, dust, and the stain of spilt blood from the inhabitants. The buildings were barely cracked, their foundations still firm and proud. The Jedi raced between the columns of blackened protectors that pushed the haze behind them, not allowing it to invade the solitary survivor. Morra noticed Qui-Gon fall back, his limping becoming more pronounced, and slowed down to wrap his beam of an arm around his counterpart. Half-carrying Qui-Gon, Morra followed his padawan as he wound his way through the empty street.

Zeller stopped before a small rounded building, squatting close to the ground. A part of the building had fallen in where a neighboring building had collapsed. A charred insectoid body hung decaying from a window.

"He is in there," Zeller said, choking through the air that was burning his lungs. His purifier was protesting the quick breaths and showing indications that its systems were being overtaxed.

Qui-Gon panted through his breather and with an exhilarating rush, he felt a faint tingling along his training bond, "Yes! I can sense him! Obi-Wan is here!"

Ignoring the pains in his body, Qui-Gon catapulted himself to the door way of the small building. He had to duck to enter the decorated camber. The smell of decay assailed his nostrils despite the breather clenched between his teeth. The familiar presence in his mind was so dim, the master had to struggle to ascertain its location. Obi- Wan was barely conscious, clutching to what control he had over the force to sustain his existence, his call to his master, his hope.

"OBI-WAN?!" Qui-Gon called sharply. His voice carried to the far corner of the circular room. This room was the charnel, the place where the corpses were placed before burial. In the beginning, the Aphidian people had placed their dead within this room to be buried after the strife, but due to the continued fighting, no one was able to put the dead to their final resting place. Now they lay, void of life and honor, decaying away in a tomb that no one would ever watch over or visit. A lifeless world for the departed that had wasted their own lives and the lives of others with no remembrance of who and what they were.

Several doors lead downward into other chambers and his voice echoed back faintly as he continued to call out. "Obi-Wan, I am here! Where are you?"

Qui-Gon went through the door and found several dais in a tholos, a circular underground tomb. The mucid smell of death mingled with the odor of charred flesh. Quickly scanning the room, Qui-Gon went into the next doorway, leading through a series of passages. Water seeped through the many cracks of the foundation, creating a musty, damp smell of decay and death.

Feeling his strength returning at every step, Qui-Gon doubled his speed, calling out continually. The master's powerful voice echoed from the catacombs like many pleading entities.

"Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan can you hear me? Let me know where you are. Call out to me!"

Tears began to cloud Qui-Gon's eyes as he felt a twinge along the training bond he shared with his apprentice. "Obi-Wan, don't go! Don't let go! I am coming! Call out to me! Guide me to you!"

Qui-Gon raced into another chamber, feeling a tugging at his mind. Then a faint voice echoed into his consciousness, "_Master. So tired_."

Obi-Wan was weak and fading fast.

Determination put all things out of Qui-Gon's mind as he latched onto the call of his padawan, his young charge, his son. The pain the master had suffered for the past few weeks was soon forgotten. The weakness of his limbs ebbed away. The block of his mind dissolved and a blatant rush of emotion led him deep into the chambers of the dead, guiding by a light that began to diminish.

As Qui-Gon entered the last chamber, a flood of happiness nearly brought him crashing to his knees. Obi-Wan was here! The force was swelling and cresting, sending out the beacon to call for the only one who could save him. Qui-Gon's eyes darted around the small room and saw a bundle of cloth behind the farthest dais.

Qui-Gon dropped to his knees and pulled back the thick woolen fabric to reveal his padawan. Obi-Wan's face was gray, drawn in hunger. His eyes that normally sparkled were sunken, half lidded and distant. His thin lips barely parted to whisper, "Master" before he collapsed.

Without realizing what he was doing, Qui-Gon pulled the bundle of fabric into his arms and tried to rouse his padawan back to consciousness.

"Qui-Gon!" Morra gasped through his breather. He knelt beside his comrade and gazed into the stricken face that was once a cheeky, vibrant apprentice.

Qui-Gon fumbled with the spare breather, his hand shaking so hard he could barely grip it. Morra's large paw covered Qui-Gon's hand to steady it, placing the breathing apparatus over Obi-Wan's mouth. A slow, dull breath registered; soft as a baby's sigh. The breather beeped, its information panel lighting up and showing the slow breath, faint heartbeat, and warning of possible suffocation.

"We can not be too late," Qui-Gon whispered, pressing the breather more firmly over Obi-Wan's face. "Come on, Obi-Wan. You have to take deep breaths."

The monitor on the side of the breather flashed another danger warning as it registered how little oxygen was being received by the patient.

Zeller kneeled beside the master and apprentice, his eyes reflecting the sorrow that was permeating the air. He closed his eyes, stretching out his hand to Obi-Wan's forehead. The room seemed to brighten, the air became lighter, the force singing in perfect harmony into the Jedi minds.

Obi-Wan's breather beeped as deep breaths rattled through its filter. The monitor showed a rise in heart rate and oxygen saturation.

Zeller opened his eyes and gazed at Master Jinn, "He is safe to move now, but we must hurry. I feel something horrible is going to happen."

Qui-Gon nodded and said softly, "Thank you again, Zeller."

Zeller flashed the master a smile before rising and leading the way through the catacombs. Qui-Gon gathered Obi-Wan into his arms, his past injuries forgotten, carrying the stricken youth out of the maze of death. Master Morra brought up the rear, watchful over his comrade lest he overdo it and cause physical harm to himself and his apprentice.

As the quartet left the burial chambers, a great crackling sound filled the air. The ground trembled like a straining colossus trying to break free from its earthly mantle. Great fissures began to split the blackened earth, giant vents of heated air throwing steam thousands of feet into the air.

The Jedi staggered as the ground heaved beneath their feet. Rocks, dust, and other debris began to race across the moving landscape. The buildings that had remained standing during the bombardments, now vibrated with the powerful tremors of their foundations. The masonry cried out as its remaining strength was tested, its once solid foothold now crumbling in submission.

A violent shake threw Zeller to the ground. Morra raced to his padawan's side and helped his charge to his feet.

"What is happening, Master?" Zeller yelled over the tumult.

"I do not know," Morra answered, ushering his padawan into a run towards their transport.

Qui-Gon raced up the landing ramp, Obi-Wan tucked safely in his arms. Morra and Zeller gained the safety of the airship and went to the cockpit, preparing to take off from the ruined world. Zeller secured himself into the pilots seat, threw switches, and less than a minute, had the ship lifting off. Air currents tossed the ship about, heated vents scorching the side of the alloyed panels. Zeller fought the controls, gritting his teeth with the strain to keep the ship level.

The Jedi breathed a sigh of relief when the ship cleared the atmosphere. As the ship hovered like an angry bee over the blooming destruction below, Qui-Gon placed Obi-Wan on the bio-bed and began to hook the padawan up to the stabilizing monitors for the journey home. The small bed beeped and displayed Obi-Wan's vitals, showing the dangerously low breathing, oxygen, and body weight. Qui-Gon's brow furrowed when he saw that Obi-Wan had lost a third of his weight.

"Oh, my son," Qui-Gon whispered, brushing back strands of hair from Obi-Wan's face. "What you must have endured."

A loud report shook the tiny aircraft. The ship pitched violently, causing Qui-Gon to brace himself against the bulkhead as he finished putting his apprentice into a stasis unit. A thin shell sealed Obi-Wan inside, the medical bed providing the life support for the haggard youth.

Morra yelled, "Strap yourself in, Qui-Gon!"

Qui-Gon took his seat behind the Korrdian master, his worried gaze leaving his apprentice to stare out of the view port. Enormous clouds of steam poured from the clefts. The intense heat from the ruptures evaporated the soot and debris that clouded the air. Twisting coils of ash disintegrated as the temperature rose rapidly, their sepia bodies fading away into rippling heat waves.

The buildings crumbled as the ground heaved and shook. Boulders the size of aircraft tumbled along the surface, colliding like tiny marbles in a spirited child's game. A deep red froth began to appear along the cracks, as the gyrations forced eruptions along the fissures.

The Jedi gasped as a large rent split the Aphidia capitol city into segments, the torn buildings and lifeless bodies melting away as the planet disgorged its molten innards. Brilliant hues of orange and yellow and red covered the landscape. Vibrant sprays of lava gave birth to white-hot sparks that jumped through the sky like a celebratory display. Smaller cracks formed, branching out from the pyre that destroyed the capitol city.

Aphidia was in its final phase.

From the safety of space, the Jedi watched as other fissures formed, creating a dangerous web over the planet's face. As the ship hovered in orbit, great continents became gory masses of crimson. The seas boiled from heat and radiation. Bodies of large sea creatures floated to the surface as their homes and lives now destroyed. The once beautiful blue waters, now churned white and frothed its deadly acid upon the glistening shores.

"Take us home," Morra whispered to his apprentice.

Zeller wiped a stray tear and nodded, setting their course for home.

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As the small aircraft exited hyperspace and vectored into Coruscant's atmosphere, padawan Zeller called, "Approaching the Temper now, Master."

Morra snapped out of the light reverie he had fallen into and nodded, "Very good, Padawan. You know the routine."

Zeller gave a brief nod and identified their ship to the temple's controller. As the padawan brought the ship down on one of the launch pads, he became aware of the multitude of people rushing towards their craft.

With a nervous sigh, the padawan nodded out the viewport, "We have a welcoming party, Masters."

Morra nodded and turned to see his long time friend. Qui-Gon gave the Korddian master an appreciative bow, then turned to the task of separating his apprentice from the bio-bed. Morra noticed that Qui-Gon's hands seemed to move with fluidity and precision. The pain and suffering the master had undergone all those weeks seemed to melt away and be replaced by strength and determination.

'_He is once again strong,'_ Morra thought as he watched his counterpart gently wrap his charge in robes and lift him into powerful arms. _'His injuries are but a memory, now that he is whole once again.'_

Qui-Gon didn't wait for the ramp to be completely lowered before stepping off the transport and racing across the landing bay. His once atrophied legs now pumped faster than the eye could see, his breathing was even and slow, the force pulsing around him, giving him strength. Several of the beings on the landing bay got a quick glimpse of the master as he streaked past them, carrying a bundle of brown robes tucked safely against his chest.

Master Morra took a deep breath, gathered the force around him, and walked down the ramp to greet the committee. As he had expected, there were council members, including Yoda and Mace Windu, and a few of the older initiates. He gave the masters a respectful bow, and gave them a very benign smile.

"Masters?" he queried.

Yoda took a step forward, his gimmer stick making a sharp rap on the floor, "Disobeyed you have."

"I am sorry, Master," Morra blinked, cocking his head to one side in an attitude of non-comprehension.

"Master Jinn was not to leave the temple," Windu put in, coming to stand behind his counterpart. "He was to be prepared for immediate, _life saving,_ surgery. His mind must be healed before he can…"

"He is already healed." Morra interrupted the dark master, "We found Kenobi. Qui-Gon is rushing him to the healers as we speak."

Mace gasped, opened mouthed at his junior's blatant disregard, then the news sunk into his mind. The other members of the group stood motionless, disbelief painted on their multi-cultural features. Hope had been given up, and yet, somehow, Obi-Wan Kenobi defeated the odds and survived the war torn planet.

"Now, if you will excuse me," Morra gave a small bow and gestured for Zeller to follow him, "I have a best friend that needs me."

As the duo left the shocked Jedi, Zeller gave his master a sly smile. He knew that they had not heard the last of the council on this matter. But, for the time being, everyone will be centered on the return of their golden child.

As the lift opened to reveal the medical wing, Morra was astounded at the commotion coming from the trauma room. As the giant Korddian master exited the lift, he was buffeted in circles by fast acting healers. Weaving an erratic pattern through the bodies, he finally gained the doorway to the trauma room and saw a very irate Jinn yelling at a healer.

"LET ME IN THERE!" Jinn thundered.

"No," the healer said stubbornly. "You know as well as I that once the healing teams initiate a Clean Room Force Healing environment, no one is allowed to enter the chamber."

"He needs me!" Qui-Gon argued.

"He needs the healers that are supporting his life," the healer snapped. "Do not be foolish, Master Jinn. Kenobi is receiving the best possible care. If he is to live, allow the healers to do their job. If you continue to interrupt them or try to gain access again, I will be forced to call security and have you forcibly removed."

"I will not…" Qui-Gon started to say, but Morra stepped at his side and gave the healer a stern look.

"Security is already in place," Morra said firmly. "You may go back to your duties."

The healer gave the Korddian master a suspicious look. She opened her mouth to question the masters' presence, when another healer yelled for her assistance in another patient's care. With curt nod, she snapped, "Master Jinn is to remain here. He is not allowed access to the Clean Room. Make sure he does not hinder the healers that are trying to save young Kenobi's life."

Morra gave the healer a reassuring nod and clasp a large hand onto his counterpart's forearm. With a last glare, the healer passed the Jedi masters and disappeared into another room down the hall.

"Behave, Qui-Gon," Morra muttered when he tried to steer his friend into a waiting room and felt powerful resistance.

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to argue, but the argument died on the way to his lips. A deep crease formed along his brow as he whispered, "I can not leave him again. Not like this."

Morra put a reassuring arm around his friend and nodded towards the healing room that housed the ailing apprentice, "Obi-Wan is strong. He has lasted this long, through horrors and force knows what else. He knows that you care for him. That _you_ took him from that torment and that you are nearby, awaiting his recovery."

Qui-Gon felt the weariness of the past few hours come crashing down on his shoulders. With a slight nod, he allowed his friend to steer him into a private waiting room. As the two seated themselves on the form-molding couches, they heard a familiar tapping ascending down the hall. After a minute, Yoda hobbled into the room and without invitation, levitated himself onto a chair.

"News?" the diminutive master asked the pair.

Morra shook his head. Qui-Gon stared at the green master for a moment, his expression a mixture of pain, bewilderment, betrayal, and triumph. After the silence stretched before them, Yoda felt the sensations emanating from his former padawan. His big green eyes surveyed the fiery cobalt blue. Finally, Qui-Gon spoke, his voice rough with emotion.

"You would have taken him from me."

Yoda sighed heavily and answered, "Believed Obi-Wan dead. Thought it was best for you, we did. See now, wrong we were."

Qui-Gon gave his former master a sorrowful look, "Had Obi-Wan been lost, so would I. If you had succeeded in doing what you intended, I never would have remembered the son that nearly lost his life. How could you betray me so, master?"

Yoda gasped in surprise. Pained shock painted his green features. He had never felt so horrible in his long centuries. Before he could answer his former padawan's question, Qui-Gon spoke again.

"Perhaps you do not have the perception of the force that you believe you possess," Qui-Gon began. His voice was raspy, but strong in its conviction. "If you could not see what was before your eyes, maybe you have become blind to all else. If you do not believe what a fellow master, a fellow Jedi, and more importantly, your own padawan learner, was trying to tell you, then how are you able to claim such control over the force?"

"Believed you had suffered," Yoda started, still unable to comprehend how one so young and inexperienced, could be so blatant. "Control over the force I have. Greater control I have. More experience and direction I have. Enjoy such reprimand from one so young, I do NOT tolerate."

"I am sorry," Qui-Gon said without sincerity. "But how can you claim such superior command of the force, and yet not see what was before you? How can you betray one you raised as your own and put all of their faith in your teachings? How can you expect forgiveness after such treason?"

Yoda opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, and closed it. He inwardly sighed, knowing his former padawan had a point. Had he become so arrogant to believe that _he _alone could foresee the future and have a greater command of the force than any other Jedi? Could he have developed an ego that thought he alone was superior? Had such a thing occurred so easily?

As the diminutive master sat in contemplation, an exhausted Yet'ilia entered the waiting area, pulling a sterile white smock away from her features. Her face was grim as her eyes scanned the room and sought out Qui-Gon.

Yet'ilia swallowed hard and approached the now standing Jedi master, "I am sorry, Master Jinn. Padawan Kenobi is too far gone. His body isn't responding to our attempts at healing him. His mind has almost completely shut down. He does not acknowledge our presence."

"What are you trying to say?" Qui-Gon asked quietly, though in his heart, he knew the answer.

"The dehydration and starvation," Yet'ilia started, "has weakened his body considerably. To preserve his rational mind, he has withdrawn into himself. He no longer recognizes the healers, the force, or our attempts to stabilize him. The devastation is compounded by the fact that he has lived in a very inhospitable environment and his body has become scarred and infected with hazardous toxins that built up in his compromised condition. I am sorry, but there is nothing left we can do for him except make him comfortable."

Qui-Gon wavered and Morra instantly sprang to his side, expecting his friend to collapse in his grief. Instead, Qui-Gon shot through the door with lightning speed, his target the clean healing room.

Without waiting for the decontamination anteroom to finish its task of sterilizing all who enter, Qui-Gon pushed through the door that led into his apprentice's room. The anteroom hissed in protest as its airlock was broken and possible contagions entered the clean room.

The attending healers opened their mouths to protest, but after identifying the intruder, they returned to their tasks, to give the master his privacy. And to allow him a chance to say good-bye.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep_. The rhythm of life still beat softly and welcomed the master into the room.

Obi-Wan Kenobi lay on a bio-bed. His torn and tattered clothing had been removed to prevent infection after decontamination. His body had been disinfected and bathed in bacta and other healing ointments. A white sheet covered his thin frame as he lay in a pale silhouette from an overhead light. Tubes and wires ran in and out at various points over the sunken body. Monitors beeped a slow, steady heartbeat that was becoming more labored.

_Beep.Beep.Beep. Beep._

Qui-Gon felt his breath hitch in his throat as he looked down into his apprentice's hollow face. Without conscious thought, the master bowed his head over his apprentice and spoke a few words in a strange language. He had learned the strange dialect while on a mission with his apprentice. Obi-Wan had been fascinated by the words and their meaning, and he had insisted that the two remain on planet long enough to learn the phrases. When either was in danger, or not feeling particularly at with peace with the world or the force, they simply recited the doctrine they had learned and all things seemed to become insignificant.

_Beep.Beep.Beep._

Qui-Gon's hands ran through the silky locks of his charge, his padawan learner, his son. His mind recalled their many meetings, their arguments, their shared moments. Their heartaches and their joys. His heart clenched, knowing that all was now coming to an end.

There would be no more missions.

_Beep.Beep.Beep._

No more jokes. No more laughs, cries, quiet moments of meditation.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

No more sparring and bartering over chores.

_Beep._

_Beep._

A tear ran down the master's cheek as he lowered his head. He felt the coolness of Obi-  
Wan's forehead against his own and felt as if someone had doused his soul in icy waters. He whispered the ancient prayer again, summoning all his heart and soul into the desperate plea to save one so precious. A single tear pooled on the master Jedi's cheek and fell upon the cool face of his padawan learner.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

"Don't go," Qui-Gon whispered softly against his padawan's ear. "It's not your time to go, Obi-Wan. There still is much you have to experience. To live for. Don't give up."

Memories flashed in the master's mind, recalling all the heartaches, triumphs and disappointments. His heart filled with pride remembering all the sacrifices his young charge had made without considering himself. All the lives that Obi-Wan had touched, the lives he had saved, the people he had cared for. It couldn't end like this.

"I swear that I will _never_ leave you alone again," Qui-Gon breathed. "I know that you were alone for so long on Aphidia. You felt abandoned and scared, but I _promise_, you will _never_ feel that again. That is my vow. My pledge to you, if only you will allow me the chance to prove my conviction"

A small twinge entered Qui-Gon's mind. The force stuttered, flickering wildly like a candle in the wind. The force anomaly that had haunted the Master for so long seemed to melt away, the last ebbs of its existence a sharp edge along the master's consciousness.

"It is not your time to go, young one." Qui-Gon whispered, allowing the force to flow through his veins, his life energy seemed to pulse as the power filled the room. The sounds of the healing wing, the monitors, the gentle babble, all faded away into nothingness.

Yet'ilia glanced to the assembled council members in the waiting room, taking in their drawn, worried looks that mirrored her own. It had been nearly three hours since Qui-Gon had barged into the healing room. The healers that had left the pair to their goodbyes had spread the word throughout the temple about young Kenobi's fate.

Yet'ilia gained her feet with a groan, feeling ancient as the foundations of the temple itself. How did the world continue on when such a young, vibrant life was taken so viciously? How could beings go about their daily lives as if nothing had happened? How can they be so callous to the suffering of others as they grieved for the ones that were lost? How can they be ignorant of the suffering that a child had to endure?

Several eyes watched the haggard healer rise from her seat and stretch, sighing heavily and sending waves of anguish into the force. Her dread was reflected in many hearts. She nodded to the council members, her gaze lingering a moment longer on Yoda's, but she took a deep breath and began the slow, torturous journey to separate a father and son.

Yet'ilia gasped slightly as she exited the waiting area. The entire healing hall was filled with Jedi, masters, apprentices, and a few initiates. They lined the walls, some standing in contemplative silence, others knelt on the floor, eyes closed, murmuring words to the force. As she passed two of the smaller halls, her eyes couldn't help but wander and see that Jedi that had taken refuge in whatever space they could find, desperate to be close to the one struggling for life. Every available space in the healing wing, Yet'ilia now realized, was occupied by Jedi and a few of the outsiders that had meant so much to Obi-Wan. Normally the overzealous healer would have scolded the bystanders and demanded that they leave the healing wing, lest they become a hazard to patients. However, seeing the look of mingled grief and pained hope, the healer held her tongue.

Yet'ilia walked to the small vacant medical station located near the trauma rooms. Each room had its own monitoring station, complete with special alarms and life supporting elements to compliment the many races and species the Temple secured in its walls. The healer felt her heart drop upon looking at the monitors to Kenobi's room.

The heart monitor was still. No pulses of light to indicate heartbeats. Lights flashed in a series of warnings, cold and unthinking as they announced the loss of life hooked to their systems. The brainwave scanner was also still. Its solid, straight line, uncaring and seemingly, mocking in its design. Several of the intravenous monitors were blinking, signaling the vital fluids were reaching their end and needed to be replaced.

Yet'ilia closed her stinging eyes, blinking back the hot tears that threatened to overwhelm her. She tried to steel herself up for what she had to do, but every time she tried to take that tentative step towards Obi-Wan's room, fresh waves of despair overcame her. A familiar tapping met the healers ears and she raised red-rimmed eyes to the diminutive master.

"I just can not bring myself to go in there," Yet'ilia said softly through her tears.

Yoda's ears drooped a little lower with sadness, "Hard it is, but done it must be."

With a heavy sigh the tiny master turned and slowly made his way to the clean room. Yet'ilia took a shaky breath and followed the master through the door, slamming strong force shields into place for the waves of grief she knew were awaiting on the other side of the door. Yet'ilia's eyes flew open at the sound of Yoda's gasp. She stared down at the small master, then followed his gaze into the room.

The lights were dimmed. The medical bed was empty. Monitors lay scattered about a twisted sheet. A soft, gentle snore drew both sets of eyes to the corner to a shadowed figure.

Yet'ilia tentatively lowered her mental shielding, expecting to be bombarded with rage, hatred, frustration, pain, anguish. She nearly staggered when a soothing peace touched her mind. She turned the illumination banks up a little higher, throwing the room and its occupants into a sharper relief.

There in the corner, passed out in a chair was Qui-Gon Jinn. In his arms, cocooned in many blankets with the intravenous lines running into their respective receptacles, was Obi-Wan Kenobi, sound asleep with his head resting on his master's chest.

Yet'ilia crossed the room to the duo and gasped at the emotions now ebbing through the force. She didn't need to see the look of utter peace and contentment upon master and apprentice to know that both were in deep sleep. Her force perception sharpened as both consciousnesses allowed her access and lightly touched her mind in response to her probes. She could sense both hearts beating a steady, matching rhythm. Obi-Wan's happiness and relief bubbled through the force, nearly sending the small healer to her knees. She could sense his body's recovery, the systems stretching from their slumber as life was once again flowing strongly through the frail body.

Yet'ilia looked to Yoda, eyes wide, "Obi-Wan is alive." Yoda nodded but didn't reply as she continued, still staring wide eyed, "His vitals are getting stronger. The force anomaly within Qui-Gon's mind has completely disappeared!" She looked confused and bewildered to the sleeping pair, "I just don't understand it."

"Perhaps all he needed was the other half?" Morra said softly from the doorway, where he had stood unnoticed. "Bonds can be stronger than what we can imagine. I believe Obi-Wan lives because he is drawing on his master's -his father's- life and strength. A true partnership means one is willing to sacrifice themselves for the other, but it also means one is able to survive, _through_ the other."

The intravenous monitors beeped again and Yet'ilia hurried over to read their statistics. Noting which containers were nearly empty, she practically flew out of the room to collect the replacements for the medication. As she shuffled along the corridor, barking orders and opening compartments gathering the necessary medications, several of the Jedi in vigil noted her changed demeanor and tried unsuccessfully to question her.

As she gathered the last doses and supplies, Yet'ilia practically yelled over her shoulder, "Obi-Wan is alive and I believe is going to make a full recovery!"

At these words, cheers rang through the corridors. Members of the order contacted their friends, relaying the good news. Soon, every hallway and room of the temple was ringing with shouts of joy, cries of relief, and songs of rejoicing. As the word spread, so did the elation. Jedi on cargo ships, freighters, liners, every heart was suddenly lighter and relieved. Obi-Wan had touched more lives that what even _he_ knew.

Yet'ilia carefully replaced the medicinal drips and used the force to check on Obi-Wan's vitals again and smiled to herself when she felt the reassuring presence in her mind. She made to check on his IV lines and Qui-Gon's eyes flew open.

"Yet'ilia?" the master asked softly.

"I am just checking the leads," she whispered back, then frowned, "I think Obi-Wan would be better in the bed than swaddled tightly in a chair."

Qui-Gon shook his head once, and shifted himself a bit more comfortably in the chair. He closed his eyes and upon hearing Yet'ilia's huff, opened one eye and said with a commanding, yet gentle tone, "He stays."

Knowing that the battle was lost, Yet'ilia gave a small nod. "He stays. I will be in to check on him later."

Qui-Gon gave a brief nod and allowed sleep to claim him again, joining his padawan in recuperative slumbers.

Yet'ilia lowered the illumination and smiled to Yoda as the two made their exit. "I have a feeling they will be just fine."

The diminutive master sighed as he made his way down the hall, weaving his way through congratulating Jedi, "That they will, Yet'ilia. That they will."

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**Authors Note:** To each and every one of my readers, THANK YOU! I hope you have enjoyed this story, as it was my final Star Wars fiction. **Please click** the button and let me know if I ended with a **bang**, or a **sizzle**. I many other different genres going on right now, so if you like my style or my twists scary and crazy then please join me in the other fics for what I promise will be more surprises and a LOT more action and interaction. ;) Thank you again and May the Force Be With You! PJ


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